


Yuanfen

by sunshine_and_symphonies



Series: Symposium [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Bad Communication, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, But only for like three people, Communication Issues, Costume and Identity shenanigans, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Digital Based Communications, F/M, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Good Parents Sabine Cheng & Tom Dupain, Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Immovable Object Damian's Trauma Meets Unstoppable Force Marinette's Sunshine, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Many many phonecalls are had, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Has the biggest heart, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is a Sweetheart, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Knows, Mentioned Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Mentioned Tikki (Miraculous Ladybug), References to MLB Cannon, Slight Panic/Anxiety attack mentioned, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends, Sunshine Child Marinette-Dupain-Cheng, The author has somehow acquired a beta in 24 hours, The sharing of songs and playlists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshine_and_symphonies/pseuds/sunshine_and_symphonies
Summary: Marinette's mother had always told her about the concept of "Yuanfen", or fateful coincidence. After meeting Damian thrice before she knew he lived with her not-Uncle Bruce, Marinette believes that this is yuanfen.Seizing this as a sign, she will try time and time again to talk with him. She breaks down his armour and slowly, slowly grows the seeds of their friendship. But fate is a cruel mistress, and Marinette will reap the consequences, Lady Luck or not.In which Marinette becomes Damian's friend and perhaps something more, only to lose him at the hands of fate.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Alfred Pennyworth, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Bruce Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Dick Grayson, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Jason Todd, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Symposium [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162280
Comments: 121
Kudos: 181





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bogorm123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogorm123/gifts), [coffeecrowns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeecrowns/gifts).



> I'm back. (Already???) Yes. I have also somehow acquired a beta. A big thank you to coffeecrowns for being my sounding board!
> 
> If you are new to this work, I would recommend reading "Symposium", simply because it helps to establish the dynamic between the Dupain-Cheng's and the Waynes, as well potentially giving you a brief overview of what may (or may not...?) happen. Originally, I had intended to write a single work for this idea but I looked at my draft and realized that it would be better to do it as a connect series of works. So! More to come, and more words to write.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _d.wayne@weinc.com_

Date: August 25, 2012 02:34 

Subject: Re: Your Letter.

Dear Marinette,

I have received your email from Grayson. He seemed very energetic to give it to me, for reasons that I cannot fathom. Regardless, I have now acquired easier means to contact you than through the traditional post system. I believe that this will be an acceptable method of communication provided the security of the digital servers.

Pennyworth has once again reminded me to thank you for your gifts. I thank you for your attention to detail regarding my preferences. While I cannot see the true appeal of the Lego set, I am most appreciative for its ability to prevent the others from giving me more asinine gifts. The set itself makes clever use of some rather strange pieces. I will say that the corporation has earned a fraction of respect for me due to their creativity.

Frankly, I cannot call you my cousin. While I understand the relationship that you have fostered with the others, it simply does not align with the relationships that I am familiar with. For now, I shall just call you Marinette. Should you need a term, I believe that acquaintances will do. Thank you for adhering to this.

That is all. I will look for your response

Sincerely,

Damian Wayne.

  
  


To: _d.wayne@weinc.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: August 25, 2012 12:48

Subject: Re: Re: Your Letter.

Hi Dami!

I am very happy you contacted me! It was not a thought to me until we had left that I forgot to include my connection information. I am sorry for that mistake, but happy that you found it anyways. That sounds like Birdy alright, he loves it when he gets to be the one to help other family members contact me. He’s always energetic. I am very okay with using email if that is what you prefer! Tim also likes the email since it is easy to see what has been said.

You are very welcome for the gifts. I like Legos because they are very creative. My preferred sets are the Christmas Village. I make them every year during winter vacation to help decorate our house. Uncle Bruce always sends them as a gift. Soon my village will not fit on the shelf we keep it!

That is okay to not call me cousin. I am not familiar with the term acquaintances but I will call you by your name. You can call me Mari if you like since my friends all do. Is Dami okay? Why do you call Birdy and _grand-père_ by their family names? Once you know me better we can maybe look at the way you want to call me, but that is up to you! Thank you for telling me what you are comfortable with.

My _maman_ wanted to know if you had any preference for pastries. We keep a list of what each family member prefers so that we can make them special for you. It is one of the ways that we give love to each other.

Are you excited for school again? What year are you in? What is your favourite class?

_Bisous!_

Your-Not-Cousin-Acquaintance

Ps! I am sorry for English mistakes in my writing!

  
  


To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _d.wayne@weinc.com_

Date: August 26, 2012 01:52

Subject: Re: Re: Your Letter.

Dear Marinette,

I would prefer it if you called me Damian. As we are not related by blood, I call the other wards of Father by their last names to indicate such. The same is applied for Father’s butler.

I have not tried many pastries, but I do enjoy baklava. You may report that to your mother.

I am indifferent regarding returning to school. It appears that I will have many of the same classmates once again at Gotham Academy. I am in the 6th grade of the State of New Jersey educational system. My preferred class is Introduction of European History, which I currently attend at the University of Gotham to supplement my educational pursuits.

Sincerely,

Damian Wayne

  
  


To: _d.wayne@weinc.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: August 28, 2012 13:27

Subject: Re: Re: Your Letter.

That seems really mean to not use the given names of your brothers. _Mme. LaRoux_ always says that we should ask for permission of what name to use. If they don’t like it it would be as if I called you Dami after you said to not.

 _Papa_ was happy to hear that you like baklava. We don’t make it here but I think that he is excited to have a new project to work at. Living above a bakery means that I have lots of pastries that I know. My favourite are the egg tarts that my _maman_ makes around Lunar New Year. They are very special and supposed to bring good fortune in the new year. I always bring some for my class as a good luck wish.

Why are you indifferent to school? What is Introduction to European History like? I am going into C.M 1 next week with my previous class. I am not excited to be with Chloe again but I think it will be nice to see my other friends. How are you in University and school? _Papa_ says that you can go to university after school but not before. Is learning so different in Gotham?

What is your favourite colour? Do you have an interesting hobby? What do you miss from before you moved to Gotham?

You can ask questions too if you want! Is there something you want to know?

_Bisous!_

  
  


To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _d.wayne@weinc.com_

Date: August 29, 2012 00:03

Subject: Re: Re: Your Letter.

Dear Marinette,

I shall take your input into consideration.

Sincerely,

Damian Wayne

To: _trueheir@email.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: March 12, 2013 21:11

Subject: Fwd: Re: Your Letter.

Look what I found!!!!!! :D This seems like so long ago. I’m very happy that we are emailing more. 

_Ps_ : Can you ask _grand-père_ what the others are getting for Cassie’s birthday? I need to know so I don’t make something she’s getting already.

  
  


To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _trueheir@email.com_

Date: March 13, 2013 04:28

Subject: Fwd: Re: Your Letter.

Hello Marinette,

I have asked Alfred about the family plans for Cassandra and he requested that I inform you of an incoming phone call on the coming Saturday, at approximately 12:30 CET.

It appears to me that I did not answer your previous questions from this correspondence. I believe that you may now have an understanding of my indifference towards school, given that I was familiar with homeschooling for the majority of my childhood and was still adapting to Gotham Academy. Regarding Introduction to European History, the course itself was very repetitive to my advanced history course that I attended during homeschooling. The professor, however, was very knowledgeable and able to answer my questions with well thought out, succinct answers.

In Gotham, it is possible to take one or two courses at a University without being a fulltime student. Tim would also like me to remind you that being the son of Bruce Wayne has some benefits regarding applicational difficulties. I do not think that the educational system in Gotham is very different from that of Paris. To be able to do as I did, attend both University and traditional school, you needed to demonstrate availability in your schedule and sufficient intellect. I am pleased to report that I did quite well in that class, according to the overall class report.

As you know, my favourite colour is green, and I am a practitioner of multiple combat styles. I will, however, mention that I enjoy the companionship of animals. Due to this, I volunteer at the local animal shelter to fulfill the volunteer requirements my father has for the household. There is not much that I miss from my time before Gotham, other than perhaps that it was never as cold as it becomes here. I do also miss some gentle moments I often shared with my mother. However, living with my Father is very nice and I am warming up to my siblings.

I shall ask you some further questions on our alternate email correspondence.

Sincerely,

Damian

\----

Marinette dragged a stool next to the landline, propping herself up on it with a yawn. She had been up late again last night designing. Her parents knew of this, but didn’t comment on the light that had peeked out from under the coverlet in the loft, as it was Friday night and she had finished her homework. Below her she could hear her _papa_ prepping different pastries and her _maman’s_ voice selling to the Saturday morning rush. While some may find it odd to leave their child unattended in the morning, for the Dupain-Chengs it was familiar and expected. Marinette knew where to find her parents if she needed them, and one of them would periodically pop into their house to check on her or share a meal before the early afternoon closure. It was a cozy, familiar start to the weekend.

She glanced at the clock on the oven before taking a bite of her croissant that her _papa_ had left on a plate especially for her with some March strawberries that had just come into season. Her _grand-père_ was always punctual with his calls, so she knew that it would not be much of a wait. Swinging her feet in the gaps between the bar-stool, she continued to eat as she flipped through her sketchbook, earmarking a few pages here with some potential patterns that she wanted to try sewing. From her conversations with Cass, she knew that the older girl enjoyed dancing as a form of self expression. Her current idea was a pair of Swan-Lake themed leg warmers to go with an embroidered wrap skirt for Cass’s ballet practices. While Marinette doubted that anyone else was thinking about Cass’s birthday already, she always wanted to check that her gift would not impact anyone elses plans, especially since it would take a bit of time to ensure that all of her practice created a good final product.

The phone rang as the clock changed to 12:30, and Marinette quickly swallowed before scrambling over the stool to pick up. “ _Bonjour grand-père! En Anglais ou Français aujourd’hui?_ ”

“Good morning, Miss Marinette. Why don’t we practice your English today?”

“Okay!” 

“How did you sleep last night?”

“Very well, thank you. How was your day?”

She could almost hear the smile in her _grand-père’s_ voice. “It was very good, thank you for asking. You wanted to discuss the upcoming celebration?”

The Parisian launched into her explanation, answering any questions that came up. Alfred commended her idea, assuring her that he would ensure the others would create other gifts. English errors in her commentary on the embroidery techniques she had learned and the different styles of fabric she was considering were gently corrected, as was typical of her conversations with _grand-père._ When she had finished, sucking in a breath and popping a strawberry in her mouth, her _maman_ had poked her head into the kitchen and smiled at her young daughter. Given the time, and the fact that she was conversing in English, Sabine knew that it would be a call from her Gotham relatives. Marinette waved, smiling brightly, before replying to another question on the phone.

“That sounds like a lovely idea, Miss Marinette,” Alfred praised. “Your attention to detail will be greatly appreciated by Miss Cassandra.”

“Thank you _grand-père_!”

There was a pause on the line and she took the opportunity to sneak a bite from her croissant. She could hear a muffled noise of disagreement through the line, before there was a soft sigh.

“Is there anything else you require from me, Miss Marinette?”

“No thank you, _grand-père_! That was all.”

“Your English is, as ever, on the up and up. Well done.” Another soft noise. “There is someone who would like to speak with you.”

Marinette blinked, trying to figure out who would take the call after Alfred. She knew that Timmy was likely still asleep, as was common from their late-night texting conversations. Odette was in the city with Uncle Bruce for an errand. Birdy was back in Bludhaven after a week off, and Tello was still doing his practicum in remote areas with limited health access. He had sent her a postcard because he didn’t have any cell service where he was in Peru, which now hung up on her pin-board.

“Hello?” She asked when it was clear that the phone had been passed on.

There was a sharp exhale before a response came, “Hello Marinette.”

“Damian! This is a nice surprise!”

“For you, perhaps.” A sharp reprimand sounded in the background. “Apologies, Marinette.”

She flapped her hand, forgetting he could not see her. “There is nothing to apologize for, Damian. We can leave whatever this conversation is for an email if you would prefer?”

“From the look that Alfred is giving me, that will not be acceptable.”

“Is it the look that makes you feel your feet are made of concrete?”

“So you are familiar with it.”

She hummed in response, allowing Damian to work out whatever he needed to say. While the silence stretched on, she traced a new outline in her sketchbook, legs swinging.

Another beat passed before - “I would like your advice.”

That had her full attention. He had never once overtly asked for advice in the months that they had been emailing. She would make suggestions here and there given the content of his letters, and he always said that he would take her ideas into consideration. Closing her sketchbook, she propped her elbows on the countertop.

“What would you like advice for?”

A long pause. “It has been made apparent to me that you are more familiar with my adopted siblings than I am. I would like to ask for your assistance in selecting a suitable gift for Cassandra.”

That was… not what she had been expecting. He was still wary of the idea of gifts, sending her a detailed explanation during the winter holidays of why Christmas was such an asinine celebration of consumerism and gluttony. His gifts, apparently, had been small, simple and functional. Tim had ranted to her one night that getting a gift from Damian was akin to getting a swag-bag (whatever that was. She did not fully understand that concept) from a conference; impersonal and uniform. Like she had told Jason during the holidays, Marinette had reminded Tim that Damian was not only unused to selecting gifts, he had been raised to see them as a waste of resources so simply receiving one was a step in the right direction.

A soft smile crept onto her lips, “Of course, Damian. Did you have any ideas in mind?”

“I would not be asking you if I did,” the boy snapped.

“It is always worth verifying,” she replied patiently. “What things does Cassandra enjoy?”

“Why is this relevant?”

“Like you said, items should be functional. Giving a gift tied to an interest leads to positive results. I know that Cassandra enjoys dancing so I am making her present for that. Is there something else that you can think of that she enjoys doing?”

“She enjoys… sparring?”

“I forget you Waynes are all very good at martial arts,” Marinette snorted. “Is there a particular form of sparring that she favors?”

“Yes.”

“Then give her a gift linked to that. I don’t know what kind of equipment you would use for that, but that is a way to show her that you pay attention to her likes and dislikes.”

“She owns everything that she requires to practice.”

Marinette paused, her brow furrowing. “Do you all share the same equipment?”

“That would be unsanitary.”

“ _Non, non, n’est pas le mot..._ in French it is _personnalisez,_ I cannot-”

“Did you intend to say personalized?

She groaned, “English simply steals our words and forgets the articles.”

There was a sharp exhale on the other side. Curious.

“ _Bon_. Does your equipment all appear the same?”

“All our equipment is standard black, unless otherwise purchased by our own funds.”

“ _Voila, ton cadeau_ . Give Cassandra an equipment in her preferr- _non…_ favourite colour.”

“It is a _piece_ of equipment and...that is a suitable idea.”

“I’m glad you approve. You are a good brother Damian. Is there anything else?”

“No, that was all. Thank you for your time.”

“You are welcome.” She took a breath before pushing on. “If you would like, perhaps we could call every so often instead of an email? It may help to answer any questions with more speed.”

Marinette crossed her fingers as she waited for his response. There were two ways which it could go: either he would say yes or no. Or, her mind supplied, he would just hang up and never talk to you again because you-

“That may be valuable. I will think on it.”

She grinned and wiggled in her seat in celebration. “That is all I ask. _Salut, Damian._ ”

“ _Au revoir, Marinette.”_

\----

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _trueheir@email.com_

Date: March 21, 2013 01:59

Subject: Your Request For Additional Communication

Hello Marinette,

I would be amenable to conversing over the telephone, however, I would like to understand the parameters of this request. Please reply to the following questions:

  1. How often would you prefer to converse?
  2. What time would you propose for this to occur?
  3. What would be the maximum duration of the phone call?



I will look for your responses so that we may come to a suitable agreement.

Sincerely,

Damian.

  
  


To: _trueheir@email.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: March 21, 2013 18:43

Subject: Re: Your Request For Additional Communication

I’m happy to hear that you want to try it! Okay um…

  1. Is once bi-weekly (thank you Google Translate for that!) too often? That’s how often I talk with the others habitually.
  2. Would morning or early afternoon your time be okay?
  3. I do not have a set time normally. What do you think?



I hope that this is good for you!

Mari

  
  


To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _trueheir@email.com_

Date: March 21, 2013 22:08

Subject: Re: Your Request For Additional Communication

Hello Marinette,

I shall call you bi-weekly on Saturdays at 13:30 CET for up to 30 minutes.

We shall converse this Saturday as a preliminary trial.

Sincerely, 

Damian.

\----

As it did the second and fourth Saturday of every month, the phone rang at exactly 13:30. Tom continued to wash the dishes piled up in the sink, knowing that Marinette would clatter down from her room in a moment to get the phone. When it rang for the third time and no noise was forthcoming from his daughters room, wiped his hands on the dish-towel and picked up the phone with an amused smile.

“Hello Damian.”

“Good afternoon, _Monsieur Dupain._ How are you today?”

“Well, thank you. Please give me a moment to fetch Marinette, I believe that she has gotten consumed by her designing once again.”

“Thank you, _Monsieur Dupain._ ”

Pushing open the trap, Tom stuck his head into the explosion of pink and fabric that was his daughter's room. Marinette was pinning some fabric at her desk, headphones in and a row of pins pinched between her lips, a look of intense concentration scrunching her face. Tom pushed the trap door open further, the motion catching Marinette’s attention. She set down her pins and yanked out her earbud.

“ _Oui?”_

_“Quelle heure est-il, mon chou?”_

The girl glanced at her iPod, eyes going wide. _“Zut alors!”_

Tom held up the phone with a laugh. She snatched it from his hands, eyes shining in gratitude as he left the room.

“Hi Damian, I am so so sorry that I am late I lost track of-”

“Marinette,” His voice was firm. “You say this as if you have never done this before. I am familiar with your single-mindedness around your designs.”

She flopped down onto her _chaise_ , “But you’re always on time and I’m always late and-”

“You are only ever late by five minutes.”

“Still! I know how you hate tardiness and I… I don’t want to lose these conversations.”

There was a pause. “Are you still concerned about the initial warning I gave when we began these conversations?”

“You made it very clear that if I deviated from the agreed terms we would not continue with them.” She retorted, watching the dust spin in the mid August sun. Her voice softened after a pause, “And I know how important maintaining what was promised is to you.”

“I believe that I have gone over the initial time allotment more than once.”

“By no more than three minutes!”

“Still I-” a huff. Marientte imagined that he was pinching the bridge of his nose, just like Uncle Bruce did when one of her cousins did something he disapproved of. “You are a good friend, Marinette.”

Warmth exploded through her chest at his admission, as it did every time he called her his friend. The changes leading up to it had been minute, so small that it was only through comparison between their first correspondence and their most recent that she noticed certain sharp aspects softening. He was as blunt as ever, something that made both Nino and Kim wary of him, but he no longer had the biting edge that it initially carried. The first few conversations had been nerve wracking for her. Caught between the desire to know more about him and the need to not push too fast lest he close off all contact (a worst case scenario that she could see leading to her ruination and the rest of her cousins hating her), she had set multiple alarms prior to the arranged time and always ran a stopwatch to ensure that she had finished any points before it switched over to 30 minutes. They had been conversing for just about a year before he had told her that they were no longer mere acquaintances in his no-nonsense way, but he would now claim her as a friend. 

Cass had signed to her on one of their infrequent video-calls that Damian had been, in his own way, equally as nervous for the conversation. Her older cousin (Marinette considered her a sister, but hadn’t wanted to push quite yet) was able to read Damian better than any other member of the family. She had been a blessing in helping Marinette in her crusade to break Damian out of his shell and get him to open up to the family, as she would let her know when to reach out again and when to maintain the current emails. When Marinette had asked how Cass knew all of this, the girl had simply offered that they had similar upbringing situations and she could recognize the signs.

Marinette checked the time again. “So what would you like to discuss for 27 and... a half minutes?”

Damian began to tell her about one of the many pranks that Dick was concocting around the household, since he was home for a week. As per usual, he would pause and wait for her to give a response here and there, giving her the chance to speak. Rather than trying to offer her ideas or change the subject, Marinette would ask questions regarding what he had said. This usually led to Damian spilling the deeper level of concern he had regarding what had occurred.

Marinette loved her not-uncle and her not-cousins, but they were not without their respective faults. When she had turned ten, her _maman_ had explained to her that Bruce was not her actual uncle, and that his kids were not her real cousins since _papa_ was the only one with a legitimate connection to Alfred. Marinette had realized that a few years ago after talking with Nino about his family, so that was not a surprise to her. What was a surprise was that every member of the family had had a very difficult upbringing. Not-Uncle Bruce had lost his parents due to a crime. Richard had lost his entire family in one night. Jason had grown up on and off the streets. Timothy’s parents, while alive, had severely neglected him and had often left him alone while they traveled for work. Cassandra had grown up in an abusive household, as had Damian. These struggles, her _maman_ had explained, left big impacts on the brain and changed people. Curious to what that meant, Marinette ended up learning about what it meant to have post-traumatic stress disorder, and how it could manifest as part of a school project. She then realized that some of the things that her not-cousins did were not just them being themselves, but rather them responding to the hurts of their brain. Marinette had cried after coming to that conclusion, overwhelmed with sadness for their respective hurts. 

The newfound understanding about, however limited given her age, had led to Marinette realizing that Damian used his prickly personality as a means of protection. Cass had confirmed her theory a few weeks later, explaining to the younger girl that his other grandfather had used personal connections as a way to manipulate him into doing what he wanted. That had made Marinette cry again. It had also strengthened her efforts to provide her friend with a safe space to relax into. More often than not, after the initial trials to figure out how he would respond to her subtle probing, Damian ended up using their phone calls to talk about things that he was confused or worried about, not that he would ever admit it that way. It had been just about two years since he moved to live with Not-Uncle Bruce, and there were many things that still caused him confusion, especially with his brothers. Given the “emotional constipation” (as Kim had said to her when she was explaining her project) of the household, she doubted that Damian had a person that he could wholly trust to simply _tell_ things too.

Marinette figured she was an ideal candidate because she lived on another continent and had proven time and time again that, like her not- _grand-père,_ she refused to share any private information with other cousins.

There was no doubt that Damian realized what she was doing. He was, as he often reminded her, a legitimate genius. After all, her parents often commented that she could talk paint off of the walls if she willed it. She regularly had one-sided conversations with Cassandra when the older girl wasn’t in a chatting mood but wanted company. Alfred had, more than once, needed to split up a long debate between Tim and her as the boy was running late for some activity. Dick and her had wracked up a startlingly high phone bill one day thanks to their nearly five hour conversation about what he was doing in Bludhaven. There was no doubt in her mind that Damian Wayne, the boy who skipped through grades like stones on water and attended university level courses at age _eleven_ , noticed her uncharacteristic silence during these calls. Despite this, he had never commented on what she was doing.

She knew he was grateful anyways.

Settling into the _chaise_ after glancing at the time, Marinette tilted her face into the beams of sunlight spilling through her skylight and closed her eyes, letting her friend's voice wash over her. If this is what Damian needed, then she was more than happy to sit and listen to him. After all, while she wouldn’t say it to him for fear of pressuring him, that is what one did with their best friend. Humming at the right moments to assure him that she was still listening, he eventually finished his story. Marinette looked back at the clock.

 _14:01_.

“The same time in two weeks?” She asked gently. There was no need for the apologies that he would offer if she left him speak first.

“Certainly,” Damian replied, the cadence of his voice slightly smoother than the start of their conversation. “I shall talk to you then.”

“ _A bientôt, Damian._ ”

“Goodbye, Marinette.”

The line clicked shut, and Marinette stretched when she stood. Turning to her desk, she finished putting the final pins into the seams of the shirt she was altering for Damian’s birthday. If she wanted it to arrive on time, she would have to get her package out by tomorrow.

\----

“I’m serious Pixie!” Jason grins into the camera, eyes twinkling.

Marinette fixes him with her best unimpressed face. “ _Grand-père_ would not do that to any of you.”

“Aflred didn’t stop Replacement when he went testing all of the coffee for other substances-”

“Don’t call Tim 'Replacement', Tello,” she chastises.

“- and Tim wouldn’t drink the coffee he prepared for a week!”

“He did _not_.”

Blue eyes meet, and the pair break out into laughter. Marinette folds in half from her giggles, the absurdity of that prank rippling up her spine. When she finally recovered, she grinned at Jason.

“It’s really good to see you, Tello. I missed you while you were away.”

The man’s eyes go soft, “I missed you too, Pixie. How is CM2?”

Marinette launches into what her class is doing for the end of the school year, explaining that she was expected to pick what _collège_ she would attend. Jason listened with rapt attention, asking how her friends Nino and Kim were, what kind of a teacher she had, if they were going on any field trips in the final months. The young girl lights up at his attention, telling him everything that she could not fit onto postcards. Behind her he can see every single postcard displayed on a pinboard. Soon the conversation turns to him, and his time traveling with _Médecins Sans Frontières_ _._ He told her about his time in the Peruvian Andes and living in remote mountain communities; how he had gotten so sunburnt in _Côte D'ivoire_ and Ghana that his entire wardrobe had smelt like after-sun for weeks after; the interesting scar he had gained after a farming mishap in rural China and the weeks he spent in Mongolia giving vaccinations to the nomadic people that they had to seek out.

Marinette is in the middle of her question around the styles he saw in China when a loud crash sounds in the hallway. Someone shouts something, and Jason hears the distinct thud of a Batarang sinking into wood. Moments later, there is a rapid knocking on his door. He mutes himself, telling his baby cousin that he’ll be back in a moment and yanks open the door to find a slightly rumpled Damian scowling up at him.

“What, Demon Spawn.”

“Are you almost finished?” The youngest Wayne demands.

“With what?”

“Your conversation. It is the second Saturday of the month.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Jason growls.

“Tello?” A pause. “Jay? Is everything okay?” 

Marinette’s tinny voice rings out from his laptop. Damian glances behind Jason, his eyes shuttering.

“Don’t you even-” Jason begins.

Before he can finish, Damian darts past him and flips over his attempted grapple. The younger boy stops in front of Jason’s laptop, and Marinette’s brow furrows before understanding dawns on her face. She glances down, her eyes going wide.

“ _Merde_ , Damian I am very sorry. I must have missed your call.”

Jason stalks up behind his brother and grabs him by the collar before yanking him back towards the door. The younger boy resists, sliding out of his grasp, slippery as an eel. Jason growls: two can play at that game, and they both have the same training. He waits for an opening and gets Damian in a headlock, twisting the younger boy’s arm up behind him before frogmarching him to the door.

“Jason wait!” Marinette shouts, an edge in her voice. Jason glances back after tightening his grip. “Can you unmute yourself for a minute? I will only be a second.”

Nobody in this house can stand up to her babydoll eyes.

The older Wayne lets go, hissing a curse at his brother before he unmutes himself. Damian pushes in front of him with a pinched brow.

“ _Salut,_ Damian. I’m sorry but I can’t call today. I should have told you, so please forgive me. I really would like to talk with Jason since I haven’t seen him in a long time. Can we call tomorrow at our normal time?”

“Fine. Please inform me beforehand if this happens again.”

Jason cuffs Damian on the back of his head for his curt tone.

“Jay!” Marinette sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose. The gesture is so reminiscent of Bruce that he barks out a laugh. “I will Damian. May I give you my cell phone number so that we can text rather than email? It will be easier to prevent things like this.”

“Very well.” The Demon Spawn looks back at the camera. “Tomorrow at 13:30, as per our normal time.”

Marinette grins, “As per our normal time. I will send you an email with my contact soon.”

Damian nods crisply at both of them before heading out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him and Marinette releases a breath. Even at eleven, the girl seems to understand more about this family than most do within the whole lifetime. Jason vaguely wonders if she knows the full truth about their lives, but dismisses it.

“ _Désolé, Tello_.” She says with a tight smile. “Damian and I normally call for 30 minutes at this time. I must have missed my alarm to remind me.”

“Is it some sort of interrogation?” He quips, confused. “Like, ‘meet at oh-two-hundred, recruit. That’s an order!'”

The girl giggles, “More like a contractual agreement at the beginning that continued.”

“I cannot understand how you deal with Demon Spawn.”

“Patience, compassion, and a healthy dose of sass.”

He flops back into the chair, “Teach me your ways, oh great master.”

Her eyes twinkle, “Lesson one, _jeune sauterelle_ : start by not calling him Demon Spawn.”

Jason groans, a smile on his lips.

\----

To: _trueheir@email.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: April 12, 2014 16:03

Subject: Contact Info And Sorry!

Hi Damian,

I am extremely very sorry for not telling you about my call with Jay. Thank you for understanding. You are a very good friend.

My phone is +33 1 XX XX XX XX

Talk to you tomorrow at 13:30 CET! I’ll wait by the phone before hand so I’m not late :P

_Bisous!_

\----

Putting down her mathematics with a groan, Marinette glances at the calendar on her wall. September was not yet over and she already could see the looming doom that was mathematics this year. There was no way that these numbers and letters would ever make sense to her, especially not with the way her teacher explained it. Letting her head fall into the crease of the textbook, Marinette breathed out and wished for the knowledge of her textbook to simply flow from the book into her skull.

Her phone chimes with a notification, and she picks it up with idle curiosity. There’s an email from Inktober reminding her that the challenge begins in three days sitting in her notification pile, and a couple of unread texts from Tim. Pushing her textbook out of the way for now, she quickly types back her replies to Tim, sends a silly picture to Cass, and opens up the prompt list for the coming month. She glances back at the calendar, her eyes catching on the picture of a small hand-drawn dog that she had printed a copy of when Damian had sent it to her. The puppy's face grinned back at her, and inspiration struck. Before she could reconsider, she opened up the chat she had with Damian.

Today 17:23

**MariBell** : _Hey Damian, do you do Inktober?_

 **Damian** : _I am unfamiliar with it._

She grins at his response.

**MariBell** : _It’s a month long art cahlenge._

 **MariBell** : _**challenge_

 **MariBell** : _They have a list of ideas that they release and you do a drawing every day based on one of the ideas._

 **Damian** : _Do you mean prompts?_

 **MariBell** : _Ideas, prompts same thing_

 **Damian** : _You know that is not the case._

 **MariBell** : _Okay, fine. You got me._

 **MariBell** : _Do you want to do Inktober with me? We can share our progress and it will be really fun_

 **MariBell** : _not to mention it’s good practice. We can do it together if you want, or not no pressure but I think that I would be nice_

 **MariBell** : _what do you think?_

The typing ellipsis goes on for a few minutes, and Marinette has to sit on one of her hands to stop herself from word vomiting through text to her best friend. The bubble disappears for a moment, reappears, disappears…

**Damian** : _I would not be opposed._

 **Damian** : _What would doing it together entail?_

 **MariBell** : _we could do it over a video call or something? That way its not so lonely._

The typing appears, disappears, appears, disappears for several more minutes. Dread begins to coil in her stomach, thinking that she pushed it too far. Even after two years, she was hesitant to ask him for more. Less so out of fear of losing him completely, at this stage. Now she was more concerned about pressuring him into something he did not want to do.

**Damian** : _*it’s._

 **Damian** : _We can video call on the Saturdays of this month in place of our usual phone calls, if you would like._

Marinette cannot help but look like a lunatic at his response. She breaths for a few moments to keep from squealing before penning her reply.

**MariBell:** _I would love that. Same time?_

 **Damian:** _I shall see you at 13:30 CET._

She drops her phone on her desk and dances around her room, elated that it was Damian who proposed the change. Kim and Nino would have to pay up, since they bet she would have to broach the change on Saturday’s and she had gone against them. Dropping down at her desk after a few minutes, she pulls the mathematics textbook towards her and begins to go back over the numerical gibberish in attempts to understand it. A few moments later she grabs her phone again and fires off a quick text.

Today 17:43

**Sunshine:** _Hey Birdy, are you busy right now?_

 **Birdy:** _I’m on my morning break right now. What’s up?_

 **Sunshine:** _Are you any good at mathematics?_

 **Birdy** : _You are in the presence of the finest former Mathelete of Gotham Academy._

 **Sunshine:** _I dont know what a mathlete is but_

 **Sunshine:** _Can you explain trigonometry to me?_

A video call request pops up a moment later, and Marinette props her phone up against a jar filled with buttons before tackling her math homework with one of her pseudo-older brothers.

\----

Her phone starts to chime. Startled, Marinette slams her head against the top of her desk in her attempt to get up. She hisses a curse as the sharp pain radiates down her skull. Grabbing her preferred ink pen from where it had rolled on the floor, she rubs the back of her head with a grimace and opens up the call, smiling at Damian.

“Hey Damian, are you prepared for today’s Inktober?”

He scowls, “What did you do to yourself?”

Plopping herself into her chair, she flips to a blank page in her sketchbook before responding. “I hit my head on my desk while retrieving this lovely.”

Mari wiggles her pen much to Damian’s exasperation, and the pair settle into the familiar routine of their Saturday call. They sketch out their idea for the prompt of the day quietly. Marinette traces Robin’s mask onto a dress form before launching into a different take on the original costume. Functional cargo pants replace the bottom of the costume, the cape links to the shoulders with a neckline to give the illusion that it is still tied to the throat. She reinforces the chest area with a kevlar vest, now that Jason has explained what they looked like and what they did. The utility belt slings across the hips rather than the waist. She adds in the gloves, and a tight moisture wicking long sleeve top under the vest. Practical combat boots with green laces replace whatever the original Robin had called shoes. Glancing at Damian, she turns back to making some quick notes on the margins since he hadn’t finished.

She’s just finished marking down that the cape would be made with non-flammable fabric when Damian looks up. “I have finished. Are you prepared?”

“Yes! Ready?”

He nods, and the pair flip their drawings to the camera. Damian’s face twitches in what Marinette recognized as surprise at her drawing.

“Is that Robin?” His voice is strangely measured.

She hums, tracing her eyes over the strong line work he’s done. The decorative mask he’s made, a full face covering, is beautiful and reminiscent of the old Chinese Opera masks her _maman_ had shown to her when they had gone to the new exhibition in _Le Louvre_. He clears his throat, and she startles out of her observations.

“Oh! Sorry, yes.” She meets his eyes and, wow, they are so green. “It’s my take, as you American’s say, on the original Robin costume.”

“What is wrong with the original Robin costume?”

She gapes, mouth falling open. “What is _wrong?_ Everything! It makes no sense for its purpose!”

A small smirk creeps onto her best friend's face, “How so?”

“I just- You!” She frantically wakes up her computer, flicking through her files until she finds the powerpoint she made for Kim and Nino when they had gotten into a feud about the Justice League. “It is glorified _sous-vetements!_ There is _no protection!_ Not to mention the _colours_ would _kill a man_ from the _sight alone!_ ”

She slams the call shut before calling him back on her computer. He picks up after the first tone, amusement dancing in his eyes. Sharing her screen, she launches into her presentation about the various costumes of the BatClan, as the internet dubbed them. Flipping through the presentation, she explains how the original costumes were all problematic in many ways, from the fabrics selected to the colour pallets to the reinforcements. Her tangent on capes takes an hour, and Damian sits and listens with a mixture of delight and concern as she continues to explain just how _bad_ most of the costumes were before they were reworked and tailored. She pays particular attention to Nightwing and Black-Bat turned Orphan, pointing out exactly what made their costumes both stylish and appropriate. When she finally turns to Robin, there is a host of pictures of the various Robins and their costumes. Marinette’s hands are a frantic blur as she explains what she would have done differently and the atrocity that was the colour pallets. Her English begins to have French interspersed liberally as her mind works double time to convey exactly what she needs to.

Damian’s face is warm when she finishes with a flourish, the final _twelve_ slides of her presentation being a chronological account of the different costumes worn by Batman and his affiliates over the years. After taking a big gulp of air and coughing, Marinette takes a deep drink of water and turns back to face him after she stops screen sharing.

“-And _that_ is what is wrong with the original Robin costume.” Her brows furrow. “Damian? Are you alright?”

He swallows, face still overly hot. “I did not know you were such a fan of Batman.”

Her eyes light up and she twirls around in her chair. “He is my favourite member of the Justice League! Yes there are the metahumans, but he is simply like me and does great things for Gotham. I would _love_ to meet him one day.”

Damian chokes on air.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asks in alarm, eyes blowing wide. “You look flushed. Are you sick? Do you need help? Would you like me-”

He coughs and holds up his hand, catching his breath. “I am fine, Angel.”

A pause, and it is Marinette’s turn to gape like a fish. Damian’s brow furrows. “Marinette?”

“ _Angel?_ ” She squeaks after a moment.

His face flames, the term of endearment slipping out naturally. “Well, everyone else has a nickname for you, and I believe that it is common for good friends to use such terms as a way to-”

Marinette recovers after a moment, grinning despite her flushed cheeks as he stammers out an explanation. After a moment, she decides to save him the trouble.

“It’s fine Damian,” She cuts in. “Is there a nickname that I may use for you?”

He stops his explanation, hands falling into his lap. His closest friend looks at him with the same warm look that she had given him the first letter with. Her eyes crinkle around the corners, and she smiles softly at him. His spine uncoils at that, the lingering fear that he had done something wrong or that he hadn’t earned such a term flowing out of him, and warm affection blooms in his stomach.

“I have not given it much thought.”

Marinette hums, her mind pulling on different threads as she tries to come up with something as meaningful as the other nicknames to her. “May I call you _Xiǎolóng_? It means little dragon.”

He nods after a moment of contemplation. “Why did you choose that term?”

“Because you guard the things that are important to you very closely, and breath fire at people you think are threats.” She grins at him through the camera. “Why did you choose Angel?”

“Todd-”

“Jason,” She corrects gently, noticing him slipping back into his initial patterns.

He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Jason made a comment that you must be an angel to deal with a Demon Spawn like me. It seemed to fit.”

Something in him aches at the admission, that his fellow companions still viewed him as something so irritable. He could never admit it for fear of it being seen as weakness, or for fear of disappointing his Father. With her, however, there was never anything but warm acceptance and understanding. Marinette had yet to turn him away for his shortcomings and took his corrections and frustrations in stride.

“He’s still calling you Demon Spawn?”

When he looks at her again, her face is pinched with what he thinks is exasperation. “It is fine, Marinette. I know he means it as a joke.”

She doesn’t reply and her mouth purses. Under her watchful eyes, he feels as though she is flaying him open and looking at deeper aspects of himself. He wants to squirm.

The sharp glint in her eyes fades and she gives him a smile again, “Alright, whatever you say _Xiǎolóng._ ”

Relief fills him again when she doesn’t push. There is a crash outside his door, and Damian glances at the time, blinking when he sees that it is now noon. A moment later he hears Sabine’s voice calling up to Marinette.

 _“Oh merde,_ ” She blanches. “I am so sorry, Damian. I lost track of time and it has been nearly _five hours_ and I know that-”

He can’t help it. A laugh escapes him at the sudden shift in tension and the rambling he had grown accustomed to when she became nervous. “It is fine, Marinette. I did not tell you the time, and your analysis of the costumes was quite entertaining.”

She blushes again and smiles shyly, “Same time next week?”

“I shall see you as per our normal time.”

Sabine calls up again, and the last thing he sees is the girl shouting something back in French as she hangs up. Damian pulls out his phone and flicks open the contacts.

 _Change contact name to “_ Angel”?

_Confirm._

\----

Marinette is stitching the last few panels of what will be Tim’s Christmas quilt when Damian’s face pops up on her computer overtop of the pattern. She stabs her needle into the fabric, and accepts the call with a grin.

“Are those my Inktober sketches?” He asks.

“Yup.”

Down flick the eyebrows, “For what reason? They are not even polished.”

“Because I enjoy your art style and it is only fair that I have part of your talents next to the gifts of your brothers.”

She turns back to her stitching, letting him piece together whatever he needs to piece together in his mind. It had taken an age to find the correct fabrics for this, and stitching the pieces together so that the pattern lined up took lots of patience, given the fine details of the pattern. After Inktober, they had continued to video chat in place of the brief phone calls. Marinette would do some sort of easy work while Damian would chat. It worked well for both of them.

Once Damian had finished his mental gymnastics, he looked at her. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry?” She glanced up, her needle stabbing into her finger. _“Merde.”_

“That does not look like your normal project.”

“Because it is my next project. I’m making a quilt.” Her words were a bit garbled as she sucked on the small wound.

“For what reason?”

Finger sufficiently bloodless, she went back to her stitches. “It's my Christmas gift for Tim.”

“How are you already thinking about _Christmas_. It is the beginning of November!”

“Because handmade gifts take a long time, Damian.” She gave him a flat look. “You know this.”

He grumbled, crossing his arms. Marinette went back to the seam and tied it off, shaking the panel out. Damian blinked at the geometric shape and the well aligned seams of the pattern. “Is, are those… violins?”

Marinette smiled at him, “You always have such a good eye. I’m making Tim a Sherlock themed quilt, because… he’s Sherlock?”

“-And you are Watson. I know this.” He glanced at her again. “It looks very time consuming.”

She was already rethreading her needle and pulling two new pieces of fabric together, not paying attention to him as she slipped further into the creative haze he now knew intimately. “Mmh-mhm.”

“How delightful.” He snarked.

“Isn’t it?” Marinette’s eyes lit up and she tucked her needled into the fabric. “It is such an interesting artform, and I really enjoy the technical challenge. I am making this quilt using a technique called 'English Paper Piecing'. Did you know that-”

It was moments like this when he forgot that her native tongue wasn’t English and she hadn’t quite mastered the art of sarcasm. She pulled a few unsewn pieces to show him the back, and then pulled a massive sheet of blue fabric up to the camera to show him the fine stylized embroidery on it in the shapes of London monuments. Damian watches as she goes through the whole process, teaching him about the difference between this style and patchwork quilting, why she chose a back stitch as compared to a running stitch. She shows him the different panels that she’s finished, pointing out the subtle details and colour choices to reflect different things. On the black silhouette of Watson and Sherlock she’s done fine embroidery in the colours of Robin. Somehow she goes from the art of quiltmaking to the history of sewing and what it means to be a seamstress. Her design books appear and she points out the different styles of hemming and then discusses the difference between a sweetheart neckline and a square neckline and when you would use either. He can only listen as her mind spins and whirls with all of the information she knows about this craft. For once, he is now on the listeners side and she is the one talking and talking and talking. His frustration for an issue he no longer remembers fades and the affection he was now familiar with around her rises in its place. She’s now giving him a demonstration about the different styles of embroidery and how you can use it to patch different holes while still maintaining a beautiful pattern. Damian smiles, propping his chin on one hand.

She pauses suddenly, “Don’t you have school at this time?”

“It is Veterans Day, so there is no school in honour of those who fought in combat for the United States.”

“Oh! That makes sense. Here it is Armistice Day in recognition of the halt of the First World War. I was wondering why you were calling on a weekday.”

“I just wanted to talk with you, that is all.”

Marinette seems to realize that she’s been talking non-stop for a solid 30 minutes. She sets down her fabric and needle before turning her attention fully to him. “What did you want to talk about?”

He smiles, “Truthfully, I forgot. What were you saying about the difference between a satin stitch and a stem stitch?”

She practically glows at the realization that he had not only been listening but was interested. As she launches back into her explanation of sewing, embroidery and fashion, Damian can’t help but be grateful to have such a friend as her. While Jon was a close confidant as they both had alter egos, Marinette simply seemed to give her time and affection as easily as breathing. She hadn’t ever rebuffed him harshly, or made him feel inferior, and she always was willing to listen.

When she finished, her face flushed and hair in slight disarray, she gave him a blinding smile. “Thank you for listening to me! Not many people do.”

“It seems only fair. After all, you have listened to me for quite a few years.”

“But that is my joy. Most do not care for the history of sewing.”

“Most people do not care for a detailed explanation of the _Magna Carta_ either.”

Her eyes flash, “You enjoy history, so why would I not enjoy listening to you discuss your passion.”

“The same way that I enjoy listening to your passion,” He counters, smiling. “Friends, as you are so quick to remind me, listen.”

Her cheeks pink a bit at his reminder, “ _D’accord, Xiǎolóng._ ”

“What else do you have planned for the day?”

The conversation resumes, and the pair share the different ceremonies that occur in respect for those who have fought for their nation. They chat for a while longer before Marinette sheepishly informs Damian that she has to go. They sign off, and Damian looks at the fine sketch of a Robin-themed costume framed on his wall, knowing more about sewing than he ever realized he needed to know, before he starts to look at different fabrics to send to his Angel.

\----

Today 20:07

**Songbird:** _What is it with Jason and disappearing for big stretches of time_

 **Odette:** _??_

 **Songbird:** _I was just thinking about how he was on a long trip for two years when I was little_

 **Songbird:** _before Timmy was adopted_

 **Odette:** _…_

 **Songbird:** _like we didn’t know until he returned why didn’t Uncle Bruce tell us?_

 **Songbird:** _I sent him somany letters that he didnt reply 2_

 **Songbird:** _and then hes back with that skunk-streak_

 **Odette:** _!!!_

 **Songbird:** _and he still hasn’t replied to my messages so I didnt know_

 **Songbird:** _until we came and met you again. I miss you Cassie_

 **Odette:** _e2_

 **Songbird:** :)

 **Songbird:** _then hes gone again for ages with MSF. but now I have postcards_

 **Songbird:** _would it have been that hard to send me a postcard on the first trip?_

 **Songbird:** _I dunno maybe he just forgot_

_“Hey Odette!”_

_“What do you mean he couldn’t during that time?”_

_“what do you mean_ _DEAD_ ”

A long pause.

 _“I… I have to go. LoveyouCassie_ ”

\----

Damian’s phone rings during a late dinnertime. At Alfred’s look he silences it with an apology before turning back to his meal. Jason’s phone rings next. Then Cass’s. Then Tim’s. Bruce sighs.

“Phones, young Masters and Miss.” Alfred asks, holding out his hand to each of them as he walks around the table. As per the rules, they relinquish their respective phones after putting it on silent.

They return to their meal, chatting quietly amongst themselves before patrol. Dick is still in Bludhaven looking after work, but tonight it is Batman, Robin and Orphan’s turn to patrol. Surprisingly, Alfred returns from the kitchen with a strange look on his face and the landline in his hands.

“It is for you, Master Damian.”

All eyebrows around the table shoot up at that, and Damian takes it with a fraction of hesitation.

“Hello?”

“ _Please tell me that it was_ une blague. _Jay is okay, non?_ ”

The voice is unmistakable, despite the frantic tone and time change. “Marinette, what do you mean?”

His Father’s eyes go wide at that, and he quickly goes to retrieve a tablet from his office. Jason glances at Tim, concern evident. Cass wrings her hands.

“ _I was, Cassie told-”_ sobs break out on the other side, the rest of it lost. _“Pourquoi?”_

The unmistakable ringing of a video call breaks out on both sides of the phone. Marinette sucks in a watery breath. “ _C’est ton père. Je vais-”_

She hangs up. A moment later the video call connects. Damian drags his seat next to his father and sucks in a sharp breath when he sees Marinette.

Despite it being the middle of the night in France, Marinette’s room is still flooded with light. She’s in her pyjamas, knees curled up to her chest showing a pair of fuzzy pink socks. There’s an old blanket wrapped around her shoulders, covering parts of a ratty hoodie that has a stylized quill and a quote from Othello. Her hair is falling out of a loose ponytail. The normally disarrayed room is a whirlwind of papers and other fabrics, her coverlet is spilling out of her loft bed. What gets him the most is her eyes. They are red rimmed and glassy, swelling from however long she has been crying. Every hitch of her breath leads to a fresh tear that she dashes away with a damp hoodie sleeve.

Bright, cheerful, loving Marinette looks absolutely _destroyed_.

“Mare-bear, what’s going on?” Bruce asks softly.

She chokes out a sob, “ _Pourquoi ne nous avez-vous pas dit? Pourquoi?”_

“What didn’t we tell you?”

“ _Jason était mort!_ ”

Everyone sucks in a breath at her words. Jason is next to Bruce within a blink, eyes wide.

“Pixie, I’m right here. I’m okay.”

_“Non! Tu n'as pas répondu pendant deux ans! Je croyais que tu me détestais, mais tu étais mort!”_

Damian can see that she’s becoming hysterical and is on the way to a panic attack. He yanks the tablet towards him and stares her straight in the eyes. “Marinette.”

She doesn’t reply, sobbing and clutching at the hoodie she wears.

“Angel,” He barks in the tone he reserves for Robin.

That catches her attention. She looks at him, tears streaming down her face and breathing erratic. “You need to calm your breathing.”

“ _Je peux pas, Damian, pourquoi tu-”_

“I will answer your questions when you _breathe_.”

She gulps a breath and nods. 

“Breathe in for four counts-”

After nearly ten minutes of him coaching her through a breathing pattern, her body loses the coiled energy and she has stopped sobbing. Bruce and Jason are having a harsh whispered conversation, and Damian catches the glint of the Lazurus pits rising in his brothers eyes. Cass is crying and frantically signing something to Alfred who is calming her down. Tim walks to Damian and joins him in helping her breathe.

“Are you better, Watson?” Tim asks when her shoulders drop suddenly.

Her voice is both shaky and exhausted, “Yes Sherlock.”

Tim nods at Damian, and he takes back over. “What do you know?”

“Before Tim. Jason was not _en voyage_. No way to talk _pour deux ans_.”

Damian nods, “And?”

“He was dead!”

Bruce takes the tablet back, “Marinette, we-”

“ _Non!_ You listen! Why did you tell us not? Is it because you think we care not because we are far?”

“Marinette, stop.” Bruce is slipping into the halfway state between Batman and Bruce that has all of his children straightening up. “Your parents and I agreed that I would be best to tell you later. You were so young, and the situations around Jason’s death and subsequent recovery were constantly changing. We didn’t want to alarm you more than necessary.”

“ _Mais pourquoi?!_ I would have not have him forever! No letters! No understanding of _why_ ,” her shoulders tremble and she looks between Damian, Bruce and Jason. “Is is because you think I care not? Or… or that I do not love you because you are not blood? Or do you think I am _annoy-_ ”

“Angel.” He takes the soft tone that she often took with him when he was frustrated and scared. “It is none of that. I promise you that it is _not like that_.”

She blinks at him, a full body shudder rippling through her small form. Covering her face with the sweater sleeves, she takes a breath, and another before she looks back at them. 

“ _Pourquoi_.” Her voice is tiny and cracks halfway through the word.

“Pixie, we didn’t tell you because we wanted to save you from this hurt.” Jason looks gutted while he says this, his eyes slightly glossy.

She shakes her head, “It is more hurt because I have to do this _alone_. I cannot _see you_ because you are in Gotham and I am here and you… you were _gone_.”

Nobody knows what to say to that. They glance between each other as Marinette shudders out another breath.

Alfred is the one to take over. _“Ma petite, attends-moi."_

The girl nods, “ _Oui, grand-père."_

“It is very late and so this feels very, very big. You should be asleep. No, do not shake your head at me Miss Marinette, you are only twelve. Being up at one in the morning is not appropriate for someone your age. So you are going to wash your face, drink a big glass of water and go crawl into bed with your parents tonight. I will inform them about this tomorrow so you do not need to attend school. Can you do that?”

“ _Oui, grand-père_.”

“Very good. What do you need from us to help you get through the night?”

Her eyes lock onto Bruce’s, steely and sharp. “If... if someone… if this happens again, promise you will tell me. _Promise_."

Something in her voice causes Bruce, the _Dark Knight of Gotham_ , to straighten. He nods solemnly, “I promise you, Marinette. We will tell you if something like this happens again.”

Silence crackles through the room for a moment as a hardened vigilante meets the young girl halfway. Tim barely breaths out for fear of breaking it. Whatever Marinette sees in Bruce's face seems to convince her, and she nods once.

 _“D’accord. Bonne Nuit._ ” 

Jason looks at her in the camera before she signs off, “Pixie. I will _always_ love you. Who else will be the Mercutio to my Romeo?”

She gives a weak smile at his quip. The others also reaffirm that they love her, each using their nicknames for her, Cass signing out a quick sorry and love you always to her. Marinette returns it as she slumps further into her seat. Damian ends up with the tablet last, and she looks at him with exhausted eyes and a wobbling lip.

“You’ll do what Alfred said, Angel?” His voice is gentle and slightly pleading.

She nods, “I will.”

“Good. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“You’re a good friend, Damian.”

He smiles at her, “I learned from the best.”

The call clicks shut, and Damian turns to get ready for patrol and a long overdue conversation with his Father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you've already read this chapter, the only thing that really changed in the edits was the addition of times to the text messages (17/03/2021).
> 
> Let's take a quick moment to check in. Have you gone out into the sun today, if possible? Do you maybe need a snack? How about a cup of tea or glass of water? Maybe reach out to a friend, or take a nap! I'm so proud of you, you've made it to a new personal best of day's you've lived through and that's something to celebrate! Go you!
> 
> Feel free to come scream at me in the comments! I'll try to reply asap, when I'm not frantically typing out words to get this idea on paper. (Think the Typing Kermit gif.., that's a bit what I think I look like at home.) I love you!


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Waynes and the Dupain-Cheng deal with the aftermath of Marinette's discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit shorter than the last chapter (about half the length) as it is the "intermission", so to say. But don't worry! The next chapter will probably be many many words long, so I think it will even out?  
> The majority of this will be told via "texting" and/or "emails". Keep an eye on the times and dates!  
> Oh! And just a heads up, there is a little bit of strong language here. I think it is just one use of the f-word? Feel free to shout at me in the comments if I'm wrong. Enjoy!

Today 01:17

 **Odette:** _sorry_

 **Songbird:** _it’s not your fault Cassie._

 **Odette:** _…_

 **Odette:** _talk/listen?_

 **Songbird:** _no its okay_

 **Songbird:** _i’m just_

 **Songbird:** _it really hurts me that they didn’t tell me. especially Jason._

 **Odette:** _!!! help?_

 **Songbird:** _not hurt physically, Cassie. emotional hurt._

 **Songbird:** _thanks for caring_

 **Odette:** _< 3_

 **Odette:** _sisters_

Today 02:54

 **Odette:** _?_

Today 05:32

 **Odette:** _??_

Today 07:09

 **Songbird:** _sorry i went asleep_

 **Songbird:** _maman and papa are… i don’t know_

 **Songbird:** _they have a call with Bruce tonight to talk_

 **Songbird:** _i love you_

 **Songbird:** _thank you for telling me the truth_

 **Odette:** :)

 **Songbird:** _chat later?_

 **Odette:** :D

 **Songbird:** _< 3_

 **Songbird:** _sleep well_

Today 12:30

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Good afternoon Angel_

 **Angel:** _hi damian_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I am truly sorry for last night. I believed that Father had told you about this circumstance._

 **Angel:** _you didn’t know_

 **Angel:** _but thank you_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _You are welcome._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I apologize, but I must prepare for school. If your parents permit it, would you like to call tonight at 21:30 CET?_

 **Angel:** _that would be really nice. i’ll ask_

 **Angel:** _have a good day at school_

Today 13:58

 **Angel:** _they said it would be okay_

Today 14:52

 **Odette:** _playlist?_

 **Songbird:** _:)_

VideoChat Started

VideoChat Ended - 49 Minutes.

\----

Jason slumps further into the couch, staring at the inbox of his old email address. Inside, after filtering out the various promotional offers and old class updates regarding homework, 116 emails from Marinette sit unopened. Even without reading them he can see her becoming frantic and then withdrawn from the subject lines.

His heart aches for her.

He clicks open the first one to begin to read it. Inside the inner workings of a five-year-olds mind dutifully dedicated by a parent spill like bright paint. She tells him about anything and everything, from the park that she had played at to the pretty bird that she saw on a walk with her _maman_. Her questions are bright, cheerful and so, so at odds with what he was going through at that time. The next letter is similar, and the next. In the sixth letter, he can see that she begins to worry.

_“Did you get a new email Tello? Maman says you haven’t replied yet and thought that it might be that.”_

_“We still haven’t heard from you. Did something bad happen?”_

_“Jay? Do you not want to email anymore?”_

_“Is it the nickname? Miss LaRoux says that we need to ask for permission and I forgot to.”_

_“Am I in trouble?”_

_“Are you angry?”_

She writes to him on her birthday, asking how he’s been, saying that she’s now old enough to send her own emails. She tells him how she’s turning six, and the only thing she wants on her birthday is for him to reply.

She writes to him about her classmate Chloè, who is every bit as spoiled as she is mean and who lies to the teachers. She asks for his advice.

Christmas comes, and attached is an image of a family drawn by a 6-year-old artist. Every member is labeled. She draws her figure sitting on his shoulders and writes “best big cousin” next to it. The email says that he can’t tell the others. She wishes him a very happy Christmas and promises to come visit soon.

Over and over, she gets older. Over and over, she asks for help.

He never replies.

He finally gets to the last email, sent nearly four weeks after his resurrection and subsequent training in the hands of the League, and begins to read through blurry eyes.

_Dear Jason,_

_I am sorry for bothering you. Maman said that you had been having a difficult time and needed some space. I did not know, please forgive me. If you are reading this, you have my permission to remove all of my letters. I will wait for your permission to contact you using this email._

_I am very sorry for not listening to your silence._

_Sincerely,_

_Marinette_

Jason closes the laptop and exhales slowly. He goes to the kitchen and puts a pot of water on to boil, measures out a serving of Alfred’s calming tea blend, adds a spoonful of honey into the cup and stares blankly at the wall as he lets it steep. His mind tilts and spins, the impact of the Lazarus pits rearing its head at his sorrow and anger. The tea scalds his tongue as he sips, and he embraces the pain as a grounding force and penance.

Cass slips in a moment later, free for the moment from her lessons at home. She flits around him like a bird, making her own cup of tea and pulling a biscuit for both of them out of nowhere, sits down. They sip in silence, Jason’s mind screaming at him that this is an unfixable mistake and Cass looking at him with eyes that are too wise to be 16. He glances down, swallowing once. She sips her tea. Jason can still feel the top of his head prickle from her gaze. 

She reaches a hand out across the island so that it falls into his field of vision and taps twice, her signal for the person to look up. He shakes his head.

Cass’s soft voice is like a gunshot in the silence of the kitchen. “Not broken.”

“You can’t say that, Cass,” Jason says. “You didn’t read her letters.”

“Not broken.”

He looks up when she taps again. She signs that Marinette doesn’t hate him, just the circumstance. That she is hurting and is lashing out like they all did in the beginning. She stabs her finger in the air sharply, pointing at him, while the other hand signs not broken slowly.

Jason takes a sip of tea, memories from when he had first met the bundle of energy and goodness who was so at odds with Gotham. A theatre of moments flick through his mind: reading Shakespeare to her, hugging Dick for the first time because of her insistence, giving her piggyback rides, helping her hide during a game of hide and seek, her giggles in the late night when she pretended to be asleep. His mind snags on her departure, distressed five-year-old clinging to his shirt as he hugged her for the last time. Her whispering in his ear that she loved him. Him promising to write.

Cass snaps her fingers and brings him back to the present moment. She motions for him to breath, hand mimicking her chest rising and falling. He sucks in a breath, and another before moving over to sit next to her.

“I don’t know what to do.”

The younger girl hums for a moment, her feet twitching on the stool.

 _“What did she want most in the letters?”_ the girl signs.

“She kept asking if I was angry, why I wasn’t writing back.” He barks a broken laugh. “Six years old and all she wanted was for me to write back and I couldn’t because I was _fucking dead_.”

Cass looks at him, waiting for him to finish. She sips her tea, the same blend that he had selected and sets it on the counter.

Her voice, while hesitant, is clad in steel. “Write back.”

The words ring in his ears as she dances back around the kitchen, cleaning up after herself. She’s left him both biscuits, the icing on top from someone's baking adventure done in small yellow daisies that look like miniature suns. He flits through a dozen of thoughts as if he was palming bullets, before he remembers the hoodie she had wrapped herself in when she had called last night. He remembers sending it to her as a Christmas gift before he got killed. It had been one of his own hoodies, specially made and slightly too large on him. Sabine had sent him a picture of Marinette wearing it, the sleeves dragging on the floor and her toes peeking out from under the folded hem, a bright grin peeking out from the hood. He still had that picture pinned up in his room, right next to his collection of Shakespeare.

\----

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _shookethspeare@email.com_

Date: November 19 2014 21:20

Subject: A Very, Very Overdue Reply

Heya Pixie,

I know I’m probably not the person you want to hear from right now, and that you’re pretty angry, but I really wanted to talk with you.

You asked me if I had gotten a new email, if I wanted to stop emailing, if I was okay with my nickname and a dozen other questions that I never answered. I’d like to take the time to do that now.

Before I begin, do you remember when I was reading you _Othello_? You were such a tiny person, and for some stupid reason I thought that reading you one of Shakespeare’s tragedies was the right idea. I don’t know how you put up with me for so long, me being such a bone head. You always had more brains than me. Anyways, do you remember Othello’s final speech in the last act? He’s talking about…

\----

Today 21:25

**Xiǎolóng:** _I am ready whenever you are, Angel._

VideoChat Started

VideoChat Ended - 1 hour 3 minutes

**Xiǎolóng:** _I will talk to you tomorrow at the same time. Sleep well._

Today 23:01

 **Odette:** _“Panic Room - Au/Ra”_

 **Odette:** _manor now_

\----

Sabine and Tom stared at Bruce, a bottle of wine uncorked next to them. Upstairs they can hear Marinette’s voice trickle through the trapdoor as she chats with Damian. In front of them, they can see the drawn face of Bruce and the ever-calm Alfred. Sabine takes a pull from her wine glass, glad for the excuse to tamp down her frustration and anger. Tom refills her glass halfway when she sets it down.

“You told us that Jason had been experiencing cyberbullying and needed to cut contact from online connections, not that he had _died_ , Bruce.” Sabine’s voice was flat. “Did it ever occur to you that we would need additional updates regarding the situation, given that we had a young, compassionate daughter who had latched onto him the second they met?”

Tom placed a heavy hand on his wife's knee, feeling the tension in her legs. He could recognize the signs of her being one step away from exploding on their old friend. “We are just a bit confused as to the change in information. Alfred’s email did not explain much to us, beyond that Marinette needed to stay home today and that you would call to explain what had happened. It was not easy handling Marinette this morning, as she thought that we had known all this time.”

“Believe me when I tell you that the fault rests entirely with me.” Bruce met Tom’s eyes, a tired expression creasing the edges of his mouth and aging him. “My intention was to explain to you that Jason had fallen into a severe coma following a brutal hit-and-run within a week of it occurring, but the circumstances around his health were changing so rapidly that I never managed to find the time.”

“That doesn’t explain how Jason died and was revived,” Sabine snapped.

“I understand, Sabine, I really do. Jay-lad coded multiple times while in the hospital, and each time he was resuscitated. I want to tell you the specifics of it, but the issue is that I am under an NDA by the chief medical officer to not discuss the procedures as it was not yet regulated and tested. What happened was technically illegal.”

“Does it look like I care, _Mr. Wayne?_ My daughter came to me in hysterics at half past one in the morning with no explanation, and was nearly mute the entire day! What do I explain to her?”

Bruce recoiled slightly at Sabine's explosion. He knew that she had a temper, but it took quite a bit to raise the sleeping dragon, as Tom called it. There was no easy way to resolve this situation without either exposing the nightly activities of his family or damaging a relationship slightly. Alfred set a hand on his shoulder gently, a reminder that this was one of the risks that came with his choices.

Tom grabbed Sabine's hand, pulling her focus. “Sabine, _ma cherie,_ can you cork the wine bottle and make a pot of mint tea? We need to be calm or Marinette will hear us.”

The petite woman snatched up her wine glass, draining it quickly as Tom took the final sip from his. Inside the kitchen she slammed cupboards shut and dropped the kettle on the stove, the clicking leading to a roar as the gas caught fire. Tom could see her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she took measured breaths, trying to reign in her hurt and fury.

“What can you tell us,” Tom asked, turning his attention to the problem in front of him.

“Not much, I’m afraid, Master Tom.” Alfred looked at his God-son steadily. “The perpetrator of the hit-and-run was never caught, unfortunately. No witnesses were present either, as Master Jason had been coming home quite late. The police ruled that this was caused by an intoxicated driver. Master Jason was placed in the ICU for several weeks and coded multiple times. At Master Bruce’s expense, we brought in several of the best specialists to attend to his care and moved him to a remote facility in Dubai to partake in the treatment that ultimately cured him. The last half of the second year was spent with Master Jason having to relearn his identity, as well as most of his motor control. We have documents to prove such, if you require it.”

“No, that will be fine, _perrain._ Is that all you can say?”

Bruce cleared his throat, “While I cannot tell you any additional specifics beyond what Alfred has explained, you may have noticed that Jason struggles with his anger now. MRI scans have indicated to us that his prefrontal cortex suffered some damage from the initial impact, and experts in the neurological fields have all agreed that this is the root cause for his shift in personality.”

Sabine returns with the white china pot and two stemless cups on a tray. She sets it down and pours the tea. Tom taps his fingers on his knee, a habit he picked up from his time with Sabine’s family to show respect for the individual pouring the tea. The heat against his hands is a welcome relief.

“So what can we do to prevent this from occurring again? Gotham is not the safest city in the world,” Tom asks.

“Miss Cassandra has proposed an idea which I believe will work quite well,” Alfred began. The elderly man glanced at the wall for a moment. “Forgive me, I must attend to an urgent matter. Master Bruce will explain it to you. It was lovely to see you Master Tom, Miss Sabine, but I do regret the circumstances of this meeting.”

He leaves, and Bruce sighs. “While Damian and Marinette are occupied, allow me to explain what has been suggested.”

\----

To: _s.cheng@email.com, t.dupain@email.com_

From: _b.wayne@weinc.com_

Date: November 20, 2014 02:43

Subject: Re: Our Earlier Conversation

Hello Sabine and Tom,

Attached is a copy of what we discussed. The lines requiring your signature have all been indicated with a star next to them. Once you have completed the form, please send a scan back to this email.

My most sincere apologies again for this issue. Hopefully this will prevent such an occurrence again.

Sincerely,

Bruce Wayne.

_Attachment: Wayne_Medical_Contact_Revised.pdf_

\----

Today 05:36

**_Cass created the group._ **

**_Cass has added Barbara Gordon_ **

**Cass:** _sisters_

**_Cass has changed her name to “Odette”_ **

**Barbara Gordon:** _Hi Mari! It’s really good to finally “meet” you!_

**_Barbara Gordon has changed her name to “Babs”_ **

**Babs:** _My name is Barbara, but you can call me Babs. Thats what the rest of the Waynes do._

 **Babs:** _I heard that you had a pretty rough day and just found out about what happened to Jay. I’m really sorry that it happened that way kiddo._

 **Babs:** _I had a similar thing happen to me because I was tied to the Waynes (I used to date Dick). Here, I’ll send you a pic._

 **Babs:** _Attachment: 1 Image_

 **Babs:** _The Wayne’s weren’t around when it happened, they were on a trip somewhere so I had to deal with the change alone. I know how hard it can be to deal with something like this on your own. So if you ever want to chat, I’m right here, okay?_

 **Odette:** _sleeping_

**_Odette has changed Mari’s name to “Songbird”_ **

**Babs:** _oh right time change_

 **Babs:** _sweet dreams Mari <3 _

Today 14:36

**Songbird:** _Hi_

 **Songbird:** _If you are up, would it be okay to video call together? It’s easier than typing_

 **Songbird:** _Maman said it’s okay._

 **Babs:** _Good morning Mari! I’m up, so I’m ready whenever!_

 **Odette:** _:)_

VideoChat Started

VideoChat Ended - 57 Minutes

_Add “Babs” To Contacts?_

_Accept_

\----

Today 21:25

**Xiǎolóng:** _I am here._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Cassandra mentioned that you often shared song recommendations. I don’t have a recommendation currently, but the song “La Vie En Rose” seems to suit you._

 **Angel:** _oh i love that song_

VideoChat Started

VideoChat Ended - 37 Minutes

_New Playlist: Xiǎolóng_

_Add: “La Vie En Rose”_

_Add: “Safe And Sound - From the Hunger Games Soundtrack”_

\----

  
  


To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _bestdetective@email.com_

Date: November 21, 2014 06:37

Subject: A Digital Hug

Hey Watson,

I don’t really know what to say. I really thought that Bruce had told you about it, but I should have checked. I can’t imagine how scary this is for you and how much it hurts, so I’ll keep this short. If you need me, just let me know okay? I’m up at odd hours so don’t worry about the time difference.

Oh and here, I thought you might like this

Love you so much. You give the best hugs.

Sherlock

_Attachment: 1 Image_

  
  


To: _bestdetective@email.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: November 21, 2014 16:34

Subject: Re: A Digital Hug

Thanks Sherlock.

You give better hugs. I wish I could have one now.

\----

The door to Bruce’s office slamming open introduced Dick’s return to the manor.

“Well, B, you have clearly lost your touch,” His eldest crowed as he strolled in, still in his uniform. “You really stuck your foot in it this time.”

“Thank you for that enlightening input, Dick.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know, this is a mess and a half. I honestly thought that we had dealt with this prior to the Dupain-Cheng’s arriving to meet Damian, Cass and Tim.”

“Did you check up on that to make sure?”

The elder Wayne stayed silent.

“For the ‘World's Greatest Detective’, you sure bungled this up. You’re supposed to double check your sources.”

“Dick,” Bruce growled. “I need you to be serious here.”

“I _am_ serious, Bruce.” The police officer leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “You screwed up. Admit it.”

“Fine, I made a mistake, are you happy?”

“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair. “Now you can go about fixing this because you know you were wrong.”

All of the fight went out of Bruce at the comment, exhaustion creeping in. He had been trying to find any way to salvage this situation without permanently damaging Marinette’s relationship with any of them. Every contingency plan, every idea seemed to lead to more problems and more lies that could come tumbling down. He put his head in his hands and sighed.

“Hey,” Dick’s eyes were soft. “You’re not a bad Father, or a bad Uncle. You were just doing what you thought was right. As someone really wise once told me, learn from it and move on.”

Bruce gave a tight smile, “I thought I was losing my touch.”

The other man rolled his eyes, “Do you want my help or not?”

“Please. I don’t know what will prove to Marinette that this was a bad choice on my part.”

The pair began to discuss ideas, bouncing back and forth off of eachother. Dick quickly squashed Bruce’s idea of sending her a bunch of expensive fabrics, pointing out that she would just see it as him trying to buy his way out of the situation. She might be young, but she was smart as a whip and had no tolerance for liars. A couple hours passed before a lightbulb seemed to go off over Dick’s head.

“Hang on, what did she ask you for before you hung up?”

“A promise to inform her should this happen again.”

“That’s what you do. Give her a formal contract.”

Bruce could feel the tension headache building, “What on earth would a twelve-year-old do with a legal document?”

“Think about it!” Dick exclaimed, a smile creeping across his face. “Mari hates liars, and all she wanted was the promise that you wouldn’t do it again. You gave her your word, but send her a _physical representation of your word to_ confirm it. It won’t fix the problem but it certainly won’t hurt!”

“That… that might work.”

Dick stood and reached over to clap his adopted-father on the shoulder, “This is why I’m the brains in this family.”

Bruce snorted quietly as the other man walked out before turning back to his computer to pen an email to his lawyer.

\----

**Babs:** _oh goodness the emotional constapation in the household is so dumb_

 **Kiddo:** _i know._

 **Kiddo:** _cass is the only sane one and she doesn’t always verbally speak_

 **Babs:** _!!! exactky_

 **Babs:** _**exactly_

 **Kiddo:** _i’m really glad that Cassie put us in contact Babs_

 **Babs:** _me 2. It’s nice to have another girl here. do you know Steph already?_

 **Kiddo:** _who?_

  
  


Today 21:20

**Xiǎolóng:** _Hello Angel. I am ready to talk when you are._

 **Angel:** _who’s steph?_

VideoCall Started

VideoCall Ended - 42 Minutes

\----

To: _shookethspeare@email.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: November 23 2014 21:20

Subject: Re: A Very, Very Overdue Reply

Hi Tello

I’m not mad at you, I think. You couldn’t tell me that you were… anyways. You can email me. I will reply, I just need some more time.

I love you too.

\----

When Marinette got home from school, there was a stiff FedEx package sitting on the table. Her _maman_ looked up from the kitchen where she was mixing something in a bowl with a smile.

“You have mail, _bǎobèi.”_ Sabine pointed to the flat box with her mixing spoon.

Setting her backpack next to the stairs leading to her room, Marinette walked over and picked up the package with a frown. She wasn’t expecting anything from anyone, and it wasn’t close to her birthday or close enough to Christmas, so it was odd to get a package. Peeking at the label, her frown deepened when she saw it was from Wayne Enterprises. Curiosity got the better of her, and she peeled open the rip-tab on the side of the box.

Inside was a stiff cardstock envelope with a wax seal on the crease and a stamp that read “Wayne Legal Enterprises''. Underneath was a small red and gold scarf with a note. Marinette set the strange evnevople on the table and read the note.

_Dear Marinette,_

_I would like to apologize to you directly. I had made this judgment on my own without the input of your parents and now understand that it was not a fair choice for me to make on my own. You asked for my promise that I would tell you if something like this occurred again, which I gave to you. Inside of the sealed envelope is a legally binding contract that assures you I will uphold this promise. All that is missing is your signature. Your parents can help you sign it, should you need the help._

_The silk scarf is my gift to you as a token of good fortune for the coming year, as you are preparing to move into the next stage of schooling. It belonged to my mother as a child, and I would like you to have it._

_Again, my apologies._

_With Love,_

_Uncle Bruce_

She picked up the scarf again, and pulled it gently through her hands. The silk slid across her fingers like water, smooth and cool. The seams between the gold and red silk edges were embroidered with a delicate pattern of cherry blossoms in gold and red threads.

“That’s a beautiful scarf,” Sabine commented as she walked over.

Marinette looked up, the enchantment fading. “It was a gift from Uncle Bruce.”

“Really? Was there a card?”

Setting the scarf down, the girl passed the card to her _maman_ before picking up the envelope. It was stiff to the touch and quite large, the size of one of her notebooks. Despite this, it was very thin. Glancing at the wax seal, she saw that it was embossed with a stylized ‘WE’, no doubt intended to represent Wayne Enterprises. The stamp on the bottom corner had a ring around it that, upon closer inspection, was made out of overlapping W’s.

Sabine set a hand on her daughter's shoulder. “Do you want to sign it now?”

“Yes.” Marinette glanced at the wall. “Do we have an empty picture frame?”

\----

To: _b.wayne@weinc.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: November 29, 2014 19:31

Subject: Thank You

Dear Uncle Bruce,

Thank you for your package. It was a very nice surprise.

My _maman_ says that I can still be hurt and angry but still forgive you. She says that forgiving someone who acknowledges their mistake helps in the process of dealing with these emotions. So while I am still hurt and angry, I forgive you.

I thought you might like to see the paper you sent me. I hung it in my room.

Love,

Marinette

_Attachment: 1 image_

\----

Today 20:09

**Songbird:** _hey cassie?_

 **Odette:** _?_

 **Songbird:** _your the best big sister anyone could ask for_

 **Songbird:** _“The Bones - With Hozier: Maren Morris, Hozier”_

 **Songbird:** _for your playlist_

 **Odette:** _:)_

 **Songbird:** _I love you Cassie._

 **Odette:** _i love you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello! Thank you so much for reading this part. It was a little bit tricky to write (ah, wrangling the single braincell that I seem to have into cooperation is always a fun time), so I hope that you enjoyed the formatting and structure!
> 
> The next part will be coming soon-ish, depending on my workload for the rest of this week. Please, please be mindful of the tags as they get updated, and make sure that you look after yourself!
> 
> And hey! Let's just take a quick moment to check in. Have you eaten anything today? What about had some water? Do you maybe need a nap, or a quick stretch? Don't forget to unclench your jaw and drop your shoulders! You're doing great today, don't forget it. I love you!


	3. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dupain-Cheng's and Wayne's come to an agreement. Marinette grows closer with Damian, becomes Ladybug and learns how to be a hero. Things are okay, and only getting better.
> 
> And then everything goes very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ ALL OF THE AUTHOR NOTES!
> 
> Hello again!
> 
> I think that it is prudent for me to begin by saying that this chapter is very heavy. Given the state of the world, please check in with yourself to see if you have the emotional capacity to deal with a major character death. If you don't - that's okay! This story is continuing, I promise, so perhaps simply wait until you feel ready. All I want is for you to look after yourself, with compassion and gentleness. Okay? Okay.
> 
> I don't know if it is necessary, as the tags and archive warnings already mention it, but just incase:
> 
> TW: Major Character death, references to a potential panic attack/traumatic mental break.
> 
> That's all that I'll say here for now. Please also read the end notes, and as always you can talk with me in the comments. I love you!

Marinette fiddles with her laptop on the coffee table, pulling up the scheduled video call and making sure that her charger is plugged in before opening the game platform. She can hear her parents humming around the kitchen as they start on Christmas dinner. Next to her sits a pile of gifts from her over-enthusiastic cousins. Jason had sent her the collected works of Shakespeare with his own personal annotations along the margins. Tim had given her a new camera with a book on fashion photography and a silver pin in the shape of a violin. Cass had sent her a link to a new playlist, and a new set of headphones to go with it. The card that Dick had sent to her contained two tickets to go see _Swan Lake_ , a photocopy of a plane ticket with his name on it and a note that he would be there with her. _Grand-père_ and Uncle Bruce, seeing how her _Nonna_ would often finish her vacations with a trip on her motorcycle, had given her a pink riding helmet and gloves so that she could go riding too. Things were still a little tense between them, but she could tell that they were trying to make it right.

Her favourite gifts were, by far, the ones from Steph and Babs. The girls had made her a photo album with pages upon pages of silly photos of the boys. They had written little comments here and there, explaining where they were taken. Cass had also included some notes every so often, little smiley faces or doodles to go with the commentary from the other girls. The second album contained cute photos of the three girls. They wrote little stories and put in different ticket stubs and receipts to give a good picture of what they had done together. The last few pages were left blank with a pink sticky note saying that Marinette could fill them with pictures from when she was next in Gotham with the girls. Steph had added a copy of the newest Jagged Stone album, her card saying that she was so happy to have another fan to talk with. Babs had sent her a little collection of the various Bat-Clan pins, telling her that Batgirl was her personal favourite.

Damian had sent her a large box with the instructions not to open it until they were on the arranged VideoCall. She glanced at the time right as the call went through. 12:30 on the dot.

“ _Joyeux Noël, Damian!_ ”

Her best friend's face appears on the screen, a small smile on his lips. “Merry Christmas, Marinette. Do you have my gift?”

She nods, standing up to drag the box over to where she was sitting. Her _maman_ comes out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“Good morning, Damian. Merry Christmas.”

“ _Joyeux Noël, Mme. Cheng."_

Sabine smooths a hand over Marinette’s hair, “Enjoy, _bǎobèi."_

The two pull their respective presents onto their laps and open them up at the same time. The wrapping paper crinkles as she opens up the box. On top of the tissue paper within is a long navy box with “HW” embossed on the top. A cream envelope sits above it with her name written in an elegant script. Plucking the card out first, Marinette peels it open and gapes at the carefully rendered tree covered in apple blossoms with a collection of robins sitting in the branches. Damian’s tidy signature sits in the bottom right corner. She reads the card, eyes growing even wider, before opening the navy box with shaking hands. Inside it a beautiful charm bracelet in yellow gold with two charms linked on already. A tiny card from _Harry Winston_ explains the meaning of the charms. Setting the box down carefully on the coffee table, she pulls back the tissue paper and pulls a bolt of lotus flower silk dyed an impossibly pale rose.

“Did you make this entirely by yourself?” Damian asks after a moment.

She looks back into the camera, seeing him inspect the pattern on the back of the jacket she had sent him. The outside is black satin with a English Paper Pieced bonsai tree on the back. The inside is made in a golden yellow, with a hidden pocket lined in red. The cuffs, collar, and zipper stitching are all done in a deep forest green. Damian holds the seam between the Bonsai and the back of the jacket up to his eye and inspects it. After a moment he exhales a breath and looks straight at her. She can see the friendship bracelet she made with the little clay lego brick charm is already tied on on his wrist as he sets the jacket on his lap.

She fidgets on the couch, “Yes? I mean, it took some time and a lot of errors and I had to guess a bit at your measurements so it might be a bit big, and I know it’s not professionally made so-”

“Angel,” He cuts off. “It is exquisite.”

Marinette gapes at him, “You gave me a _7000 euro_ charm bracelet and a _year's supply_ of the world's _rarest_ _silk_ as a Christmas gift, and you’re calling my rayon-satin hand made jacket _exquisite?_ ”

He frowns, “Do you not like it? I can get you something different if not.”

She can’t help the high pitched whine that escapes her, “Damian, how did you _afford this_? It’s too much! I can’t accept this!”

“I believe it is the contrary, it is not enough,” He retorts. “Your friendship is a gift that I could never hope to repay.”

“Damian, you don’t _have_ to repay me for _anything!_ All that I give you is freely given, it is not an exchange for anything at all!”

The boy pauses, “Is it not? Money is but a resource, and has little meaning to me. Your friendship, however, is priceless.”

“ _Oh mon dieu._ ” Marinette groans and buries her face in her hands. “No Damian. I am not friends with you because your family is _obscenely wealthy_ , or because of your social standing. I do not care about those things. I’m your friend because I _like you_ , you _crètin._ ”

There’s no response, and she glances up at the camera again. Damian looks a bit puzzled. “But…”

“But nothing.” Marinette says. “Listen to me. I have never cared about your wealth or status. For goodness sakes, Damian, I didn’t realize that you Waynes were astronomically wealthy until I was _ten_ . I like all of you because you are like family. I like you all because you talk to me about how you are doing, about what sorts of pranks you have gotten into, about the insanity that is Gotham. I like you because you listen and send me songs and never, _ever,_ make me feel inferior. How many times do I need to tell you this? You are my _best friend,_ and that is enough for me!”

He goes silent for a moment, and Marinette scans his face to try and suss out what was running through his head. He looks vaguely uncomfortable at her admission, and the pieces fall into place for her.

“Damian, look at me.” Green eyes meet cornflower blue, “Have I made you feel as though my friendship is conditional? That you need to repay me for something?”

He looks alarmed at her question, “Never! You are the most selfless person, you would never require such a thing from-”

“Then why did you select these gifts for me? Can you explain it to me?”

“I-... you once said that the best gifts are the ones that reflect an individual's interests. I know that you enjoy fashion and sewing, so I thought that fabric would be appropriate, but nothing seemed good enough as a gift save for this. And you often sent bracelets with your packages for birthdays or Christmas, so I wanted to do the same. I thought that a charm bracelet was a suitable option as you can add charms onto it.”

“Oh.”

“I apologize if it has made you uncomfortable, Marinette. I can try again if you-”

“No Damian, it’s not that.” She gives a rueful smile. “You are used to such wealth, I am not. It was simply the shock of receiving such an expensive gift. I really appreciate how much care you put into it. May I tell you my favourite part?”

He nods, hints of relief slipping through his normally stoic exterior.

“I really love the card you made for me. That is my favourite part.”

“Why? It is simply paper and some time? It has no value.”

“That’s just it, it has _no material value_. You spent the time to draw something for me. You sat down, thought about what I would like, and then brought it to life. I love it because you made it.”

 _If a stone statue could look thunderstruck,_ Marinette thinks, _it would be Damian’s expression._

“I am… you are a very good friend, Marinette.”

She beams, “And you are the best friend. Now, how about I kick your butt at Ultimate Mecha Strike 3?”

His eyes flash at her challenge, and the pair begin to battle back and forth. As time passes, Marinette can hear the rest of the Waynes begin to make their way to where Damain had set up. Cass is the first one in, and Marinette pauses the match to sign Merry Christmas to her. Cass does the same with a small wave before settling in next to Damian. Soon the rest of the family has piled in and is chatting with Marinette and her parents, wishing them a happy holiday. The boys start to bicker about who gets to play Marinette, and they pass around the controller time and time again, only to have Marinette beat them. By the time the Waynes begin to make their goodbyes, night has fallen over Paris. Damian is the last one on, and Marinette shares a soft smile with him.

“ _Merci pour ton cadeau, Damian. Joyeux Noël.”_

“Thank you for your friendship, Angel.” He replies, equally as soft. “And Merry Christmas.”

\----

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _shookethspeare@email.com_

Date: February 5, 2015 04:12

Subject: HAPPY WORLD NUTELLA DAY

Hi Pixie!

Happy World Nutella Day! What a funny holiday, hunh? Are you doing anything to Celebrate?

Love Jay

\----

Today 18:04

**Angel:** _please take this away from me_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _What is the issue?_

 **Angel:** _english work. why do we read this????_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _What are you reading?_

 **Angel:** _Shakespeares Macbeth._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I was not aware that there was another Macbeth._

 **Angel:** _very funny_

 **Angel:** _but i dont know what im doing and that doesnt help me pass english_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Let me go and fetch Jason._

 **Angel:** _HOW DID I FORGET THAT_

VideoCall Started

VideoCall Ended - 1 hour 8 minutes

Today 20:08

**Maple** : _someone hold my flower imma fight tim_

 **Babs:** _steph, honey_

 **Babs:** _ily, but WHY???_

 **Maple:** _we were talking about media portrayals of fem supers_

 **Maple:** _and this gremlin was like “But it’s fine?”_

 **Odette:** _?_

 **Maple:** _like no? the media constantly praises dudes for the same shit they villainize women for_

 **Maple:** _its fucked up_

 **Odette:** _!!_

 **Babs:** _we have LITTLE EARS here_

 **Babs:** _but woooo boy do I have thoughts_

 **Maple:** _sorry mari_

 **Songbird:** _its okay, i have heard the word fuck before._

 **Odette:** _:(_

 **Babs:** _MISSY WASH OUT YOUR MOUTH_

 **Songbird:** _sorry ily all_

 **Songbird:** _anyway i agree with Steph_

 **Songbird:** _i mean have you seen the discourse on the COSTUMES????_

 **Songbird:** _like, Supes can wear a spandex unitard but when Catwoman does suddenly she needs to think about the children and ‘cover up’_

 **Babs:** _oh is it Mari-Talk time (TM)?_

 **Maple:** _Catwoman aint a hero darlin’_

 **Maple:** _but go on_

 **Songbird:** _hang on i have a presentation_

 **Babs:** _mari-talk time!!!_

 **Odette:** _!!!!! :)_

VideoCall Started

VideoCall Ended - 43 minutes

**Maple:** _amazing_

 **Babs:** _i am always impressed by you kiddo_

 **Odette:** _:D_

 **Songbird:** _thanks! Ily all but I need to sleep now._

 **Songbird:** _maman is giving me the -look-_

 **Odette:** _sd <3 _

**Babs:** _yes! sweet dreams! <3 _

**Maple:** _^^_

 **Maple:** _anyways, the whole thing_

 **Babs:** _oh man I have so many thoughts_

\----

Today 00:02

**Xiǎolóng:** _This song seemed to fit you._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _“You Are My Sunshine - Kina Grannis”_

_Message Deleted_

_Message Deleted_

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _shookethspeare@email.com_

Date: February 14, 2015 00:16

Subject: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

Hiya Pixie!

Happy Valentines Day! You’re an amazing not-cousin and I wanted to be the first one to tell you happy Valentines day!

Love you lots! Big Hugs

Tello

  
  


To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _bestdetective@email.com_

Date: February 14, 2015 00:23

Subject: A Valentines Day Hug

Good morning Watson!

It’s your favourite holiday! Happy Valentine's day to the girl who gives the best hugs!

I hope you have a great day

Sherlock

Today 01:32

**Odette:** _Attachment: 1 image_

 **Babs:** _OMG!!!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY KIDDO_

 **Babs:** _you look so cuuuuuute!_

 **Maple:** _happy GAL-entines day!!!_

 **Maple:** _ahljfshsaiworhu_

 **Maple** : _MARI YOU ARE SUCH A BEANNNN OMG_

 **Odette:** _ <3 _

**Odette:** _ily sister_

Today 03:21

**Birdy:** _happy valentines day! Love you Sunshine!_

Today 06:53

**Xiǎolóng:** _Good morning Angel. I apologize, but I accidentally sent something to you that was intended for Cassandra._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I hope that you have a good day at school. Happy St. Valentine's day._

\----

To: _shookethspeare@email.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: February 14, 2015 15:32

Subject: Re: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

Happy valentines day to you to Tello! love you <3

Big hugs back!

_Attachment: 1 image_

  
  


To: _bestdetective@email.com_

From: _pinkpastries@email.com_

Date: February 14, 2015 15:41

Subject: A Valentines Day Hug

Happy Valentine’s Day to the person who gives better hugs! Love you so much Sherlock. <3

Sending you a virtual hug! I saw what you were proposing for WE, it looks really good! You should be super proud of yourself.

Oh! Here is the annual Valentine’s Picture

_Bisous!_

Watson

_Attachment: 1 image_

  
  


Today 15:56

**Songbird:** _Happy Valentine’s Day! Ily all so much_

 **Songbird:** _@Babs @Maple Valentines day has always been my favourite holiday, so I always get dressed up! This is this years picture_

 **Songbird:** _Attachment: 1 image_

 **Babs:** _ahljhfaljg you are so cute kiddo_

 **Babs:** _ily so much <3 <3 _

**Maple:** _:0_

 **Maple:** _did you MAKE that yourself?????_

 **Songbird:** _yup! I used some of the gift that Damian sent me at Christmas for it._

 **Maple:** _omfg you are so talented like howwwwww_

 **Odette:** _:)_

 **Odette:** _prodigy_

 **Songbird:** _nono its just practice! and a good pattern_

 **Babs:** _i’m with the others here, you are a magician with fabric_

 **Babs:** _you deserve all of the credit your getting!!!_

 **Songbird:** _if you say so. I still have alng way to go_

 **Songbird:** _**long_

 **Songbird:** _gotta go happy Val/Gal/Pal-entines day! <3 <3 ily!! _

Today 16:04

**Sunshine:** _happy Valentines day! I love you too!_

Today 16:08

**Angel:** _Happy St. Valentine’s Day Damian! Don’t worry i do the same thing all the time_

 **Angel:** _I hope that you have a great day at school too and you are my best friend_

 **Angel:** _oh! it’s a tradition for me to send a picture of my valentines day outfit_

 **Angel:** _Attachment: 1 image_

 **Angel:** _I’m getting to use what you sent me for Christmas! I hope you like it. <3 _

\----

To: _b.wayne@weinc.com_

From: _s.cheng@email.com_

Date: February 19, 2015 00:01

Subject: Happy Lunar New Year!

Hello Bruce,

Happy Lunar New Year! From our family to yours, we want to wish you lots of fortune and prosperity in the coming year. As we enter into a new season, it is time to turn over a new leaf. I’m glad to see that Marinette is connecting with your children, and thank you for the Valentine's day gift - she was thrilled. 

Attached is our family New Year's picture. Would you mind passing on the message to the others? I fear that Marinette will forget to in the festivities.

Kind Regards,

Sabine

_Attachment: 1 image_

\----

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _shookethspeare@email.com_

Date: April 17, 2015 04:24

Subject: HAPPY INTERNATIONAL HAIKU POETRY DAY

Hi Pixie!

Happy Haiku Day!

I wrote this poem for you

to celebrate it!

Love you!

Tello

\----

Marinette frowned at the clock on the wall. Pulling her phone out, she fired a quick text off before turning back to her computer screen. If she needed to wait, she might as well occupy her time, and inspiration seemed like the way to go. Opening her fashion Pinterest board, she found the pattern she wanted to try and printed it out. Just as she heard the papers finish printing, the familiar ringtone of “La Vie En Rose” rang out from her laptop, and she clicked accept as she went to fetch her papers. She had to thank Max for showing her how to customize them.

“Hi Damian! I’m just going to grab some papers real quick and I’ll be right there.”

“Take your time Angel.”

She grabbed the sheets of paper, checking to make sure that everything was in order as she walked back. “Is it a special occasion? You were a little bit late to- _oh mon dieu._ ”

On screen, Damian grimaced and winced slightly as the skin around his nose moved. Even with his darker skin, Marinette could make out two dark black eyes connected by a wide bruise across his nose. She stared for a second, eyes going even wider when she took in the row of butterfly bandages across his collarbone that peeked through the collar of his shirt. Her papers scattered to the floor and she yanked herself towards the screen.

“Damian, are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? Does Bruce know? Does _Alfred_ know? Do you need me to call-”

“Angel, I’m fine.”

“Forgive me for being worried when your face looks like a horse stomped on you!” She flailed her arms to emphasize her point.

“Really, I am okay. I apologize for being late.”

“ _That’s_ what you're concerned about?”

Damian sighed as Marinette began to babble out of panic. He had known that it would not be a good idea to call her looking like this, but he had woken late and hadn’t had the time to cover up the bruises properly. He went to pinch the bridge of his nose and immediately winced when his fingers touched the sensitive flesh. Even with the Marinette trying to be quiet, he heard her suck in a breath at his wince.

“Damian.” Marinette seemed to have calmed down slightly. She was looking at him with enough concern to knock some of the air from his lungs. “Does Alfred know about this?”

 _Ah,_ he thought. _Leadership Marinette has come out in full force_.

“Yes, Angel. He was the one to help me apply the butterfly bandages, as well as the person who instructed me to ice the bruise.”

“Okay. Okay good. Um,” she bit her lip. “Do you have _crème d’arnica_ handy? I know that Alfred keeps some in the kitchen's first aid kit.”

“I have it here. Do you want me to apply some on the bruise?”

“ _Oui, s’il te plait."_

He squeezed the Arnica cream onto a finger and began to gently spread it out across the bruises. Marinette watched quietly, commenting here and there to help him get spots that he had missed. Every touch of his fingers caused the bruise to throb, but he finished after some time.

“Thank you. You look like it hurts, can you take a paracetamol?”

“I have already taken two ibuprofen, but thank you for caring about me.”

“Of course Damian. I- you’re my best friend, of course I care about your health.” She slid out of her chair and off screen, likely to pick up the pieces of paper that she dropped. He leaned back into his chair and tilted his head back to face the ceiling.

“Okay, _bon._ ” She popped back onto her chair. “Are you still up to talk or do you need rest?”

“I’m fine to talk, Marinette. I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t”

That seemed to break the hold she had. “Then what the heck _happened_ to you!”

“Relax, Angel. It was an accident at my Dojo. One of my peers aimed slightly too low and I missed the block.”

“And the cut?”

“That is an unfortunate outcome from one of Jason’s pranks.”

A beat and then - “ _Mon dieu,_ what is _with_ this family.”

His spine uncoiled as she accepted the story. The truth of the matter was that there had been a nasty attack from Scarecrow last night and once of his goons had clipped his mask with a baseball bat before he had stopped it. The cut had been from one of the civilians impacted by the fear toxin - when he had grabbed them to grapple them to EMT’s to get the cure, they had dragged their house key across his collarbone. Somehow, the jagged edge of the key had been enough to bite through the fabric of his suit, leaving an easy target for a stray Batarang that had nicked him as it flew over his shoulder. Alfred had patched him back up yesterday, passing him a pack of frozen peas to ice his bruises with. His nose had bled something fierce as soon as he set the ice on the bruise, and most of his night was spent in uneasy rest thanks to the pain caused by moving around.

He knew that Marinette despised liars, and it pained him to have to do so, but it was safer than the alternative. If she knew about his identity, there was no doubt that she would piece together the others and that would be a failure on his part. It would also lead to Marinette discovering Jason’s tenure as a Drug and Crime lord, something he had no doubt would irrevocably damage their already fragile relationship. Damian, despite his misgivings about Jason, was not going to do that to Marinette, who had already suffered enough heartbreak at the realization that he had died. After all, so long as he kept vigilant and ensured that he remained in peak physical capacity, he would be safe fighting with his family.

“-amian. Damian.” He snapped his eyes to her. She smiled at him softly, “Are you sure that you are up to this? You were lost for a moment.”

“No, Angel, I’m fine. My apologies for losing focus. What were you saying?”

She launched back into her discussion about the class representative elections that she would be eligible for and her ideas about ways to improve her school. Somehow she had gone from a rant about how strange and difficult the Waynes were, and why they needed to pay more attention to safety, into her excitement for next year. He hummed at the appropriate sections, commenting where she seemed to be looking for input, but otherwise let his mind drift slightly. It was not polite, he knew that, but exhaustion coiled in the back of his head like a snake and began to demand his attention. His bruises throbbed, the cut stung and the ibuprofen hadn’t fully set in yet. For a moment, he imagined Marinette marching into his room and pushing him back to bed, insistent that he rest. The idea of her tiny form pushing him and fussing with the sheets, the way he had seen her do to Tim when she had been here, to make sure that he was okay brought a smile to his face.

“Damian,” Her voice pulled him out of the warm thought. “I’m making an executive decision as a Platinum Friend-Club Member. You are going back to bed.”

He blinked at her, “Can’t I refute that? I am fine.”

Her smile was at odds with the twinkle in her eyes, “Nope, you’re only at Gold level. You have a bit more to go until you get to Platinum. Besides, it’s summer vacation so you can’t use school as an excuse.”

Damian rolled his eyes. He knew that this was not a fight he would win with her. “Very well, Marinette. I am sorry for my inattention.”

“ _Xiǎolóng,_ it’s okay. It happens. We can talk tomorrow if you want? Right now I just want you to get better.”

“Alright, Angel. I’ll go back to bed.”

Her eyes crinkled around the corners as she smiled. Pale pink roses bloomed on her cheeks, and Damian’s heart seemed to stutter for a moment. “Sleep well Damian. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

\----

Search History

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\----

  
  


@sunshinedesigns: test tweet. I don’t understand this. #new?

_Follow @GothamPD?_

_Accept_ _  
_ _Follow @WEIncorperated?_

_Accept_

_Follow @Batwatch?_

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_Follow @GothamGazet?_

_Accept_

_Now Following #Batman_

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_Twitter would like to send you push notifications_

_Accept_

\----

The phone rang had already rung three times before Marinette picked up, still entranced by the _Agreste_ summer line that had just been released. She had been looking at the final products on the models and comparing it to the initial sketches that were next to it. There was so much to see, and so many fine details had been subtly taken in from the rough sketches. On some of her favourites, she was making notes in the margins about how she would imitate it. Her desk was strewn with different Fashion books, some showing the Spring lines from last year’s Paris Fashion Week. It was, as her parents affectionately dubbed it, the fashionable warzone. Summer was almost over and she was trying to decide what projects to work on, so that she wouldn’t fall behind in her studies.

Her phone rang again, the harsh rock of Jagged stone finally pulling her out of her stupor. She scrambled for it underneath the piles of paper littering her desk. When she finally pulled it up, a triumphant look on her face, she accepted the call and plopped back into her chair. Propping one knee up on the lip, she rested her chin against it to continue to work.

“ _Bonjour?”_

“Heya Pixie, are you busy?”

“No, I’m just working on designing right now but it can wait. What do you need?”

Jason chuckled on the other end, “Check the time, Pixie. Are you late for something?”

Marinette furrowed her brow and glanced at the clock. “ _Oh putain._ Thank you Jay.”

“O’course Pixie. I’ll talk to you soon.”

The call clicked shut and she paled even further when she saw the number of missed calls in her inbox. She re-dialled the last missed call, beginning to nibble on her thumbnail as she tried to figure out how to explain it to Damian that she wasn’t ignoring him, she had just lost track of time.

“Hello Marinette.”

His voice was flat, and she slumped further into her chair. “Hi Damian. Oh I really made a mess of this didn’t I. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you late?”

“I… I lost track of designing because I was comparing the newest _Agreste_ line to the last Spring Fashion week, and then I was thinking about how I could incorporate the different techniques into my projects before I realized that I needed to plan my projects and I-”

“That sounds like an excuse.”

She sucked in a breath, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I know, I’m sorry. Like you always say, excuses are tools of incompetence, and those who specialize in them are seldom good at anything. I just- oh I am so sorry I really screwed this up.”

“Marinette?”

“Please don’t hate me, it really won’t happen again. I’ll… I’ll set like three more alarms and make sure that I don’t start designing anytime before we-”

“Angel.” His voice sounded panicked. “Angel stop. You’re okay you did nothing wrong.”

“But I was so late and-”

“It was a prank!” Damian was nearly frantic.

She stopped speaking, mouth falling open. On the other side of the line she could hear a muffled argument and a solid thwack followed by a yelp of pain. The door shut in the background and the room went silent.

“Marinette, can I VideoCall you?”

She hung up the phone.

Not even three seconds later there was a flurry of panicked texts from Damian. She booted up her laptop and opened their usual application. The texts kept popping up. With a deep breath, she put the call through. It didn’t even finish the first ring.

Damian looked at her face and hissed a curse in Arabic.

“Were you _trying_ to give me a heart-attack?” Marinette asked, voice flat. “Because you certainly succeeded in that.”

“No, Angel. I swear. It was supposed to be a joke, I didn’t think that-, Jason said to-”

Her eyebrows shot up, _“Jason_ put you up to this?”

“He suggested I try pranking you. I, I’ve never done this before and I didn’t know what would happen and now you are upset and I fear that I have lost your friendship forever.”

She was speechless for a moment. For the first time in the years that they had been talking, he was doing what the other’s called her signature move: panic babbling. Hurt and confusion wrestled against compassion and love, and she closed her eyes to take a deep breath.

“Damian.”

He looked miserable when she looked at him. His head was hanging low, and she sighed again.

“Damian, look at me.”

“I don’t deserve to.”

“ _Mon dieu._ Damian, I swear to you you have not lost me as your friend. For the love of all that Alfred knows, meet my eyes.”

It was like whiplash, how much he resembled his younger self. Compassion roared triumphant over it’s adversaries and she gave him a soft smile.

“Listen to me. You made a mistake, and that is okay. Pranking your friends is an okay thing, but sometimes they go wrong. Next time all you need to do is think about how someone could read the situation. I know how important puncitallity is to you, and you made that very clear to me which is why I alway try to be within ten minutes of our arranged time. You know how important honesty is to me so you don’t lie to me. I am a little bit hurt, but I will get over it. This is something that you are unused to between friends. That prank might have worked with Tim, or Jason, or Dick. It probably wouldn’t have worked so well with Cassie. It didn’t work for me. Now you know, so as long as you don’t do it again, we’ll be fine, okay?”

“How can you forgive so easily? I hurt you and yet you are helping me again? I have been told time and time again that I am not a pleasant person and you treat me as though my time is the most precious thing to you.”

“It is precious to me, and I forgive you so easily because I _understand_ that you aren’t used to this. You’ve never pranked me before. For the love of fashion, Damian, how many times do I need to tell you that I genuinely enjoy spending time with you? Yes, you can be a little bit prickly but underneath you are such a good person. Don’t forget that.”

Damian swallowed twice, his eyes shining slightly. “You are far too good to me.”

“And you are not good enough to yourself. Let me handle Jason, okay?”

“May we call tomorrow?”

Marinette smiled. “Of course we can. You set a time and I’ll be there.”

He hung up, and she let all of her breath go in a frustrated groan. Setting her phone to her ear after dialing Jason, she turned back to her work, rearranging the papers again. The line crackled, and Jason’s voice came through hesitantly.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, you and I need to _talk._ ”

His gulp was audible through the line.

\----

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _bestdetective@email.com_

Date: August 31, 2015 06:19

Subject: Good Luck!

Good Morning Watson!

Well, it’s the start of a new school year! Good luck with your courses and hopefully you can make a new friend or two today! I’ll be thinking of you all day. Keep your eyes out for clues that can help you make good deductions! 

Lots of Love,

Sherlock

\----

Within 24 hours of her being slightly late to class, everything seemed to have changed. Somehow, someone decided that of all the girls in Paris to do this job, she was the one to do it. The job? To save an entire city from an emotional terrorist bent on a wish that seemed out of a fairy tale. Apparently, feelings and magic ladybugs (as well as a boy in a catsuit, that part was still simmering in her brain) were now part of warfare, and Marinette couldn’t help but wonder if it fell under chemical warfare, or was it’s own class entirely. 

She tumbled through her skylight and onto her bed, releasing her transformation. No sooner had she spoken the phrase than Tikki came zipping out from her earrings. Marinette shimmied down her ladder and slumped into the chair at her desk

“You did a really great job Marinette! I knew you could do it”

Passing Tikki a cookie, the girl sighs. “Sure, only after I made a mess of it the first time. I still can’t believe I told Hawkmoth off like that.”

The tiny fairy? god? (Marinette wasn’t quite sure) flew in a circle before coming to nuzzle against her face. “You were sure brave. I know you’re going to make a great Ladybug.”

Marinette checked her phone, Alya already sending her a ton of messages. Mayor Bourgeois was holding a press conference in two hours to address this situation. The Police had released an official statement, condemning Hawkmoth as a terrorist and making Chat Noir and Ladybug exempt from most laws during a fight with an _akuma_ , as they were calling it. The Gotham Girls were talking about something related to waffles, Tim had sent her an email and there was already one small request tied to her commissions account. She groaned at the amount of notifications and work that she needed to do, especially now with superhero-ing on top of that.

What was her life becoming?

Spinning on her chair, she was faced with dozens of pictures of her new classmate. Now that she had met him, he wasn’t so… unattainable. Adrian reminded her a bit of Damian when she had first met him; aloof, timid, and alone. That thought lodged in her mind, and she could hear Damian’s voice explaining about how people only ever saw him for his status and never looked past the surface. Marinette grimaced at the realization that she was doing the same thing. In a short few moments, she had discarded all the various items linked to him. She shuddered on second realization that her mapping out of Adrian’s schedule was about three lines past creepy. That task done, she replaced the former images with her usual array of postcards, drawings, candid photos and professional portraits with doodles on them. A fashion form from the new _Agreste_ line stuck out to her.

“Tikki?”

The tiny god flitted towards her, blue eyes wide. “Yes Marinette?”

“Can you explain to me why my hero costume looks like a pair of footie-pyjamas?”

“Oh,” Tikki squeaked. “That’s because it's a manifestation of what you believed you needed.”

Marinette choked, “What do you mean it was _my_ idea? I would never make something so… so unfashionable!”

“Well, I don’t think that it was a conscious choice on your part.” The other being glanced around at the room. “I think it was because you were nervous and scared about taking it on so you went with as simple a design as possible.”

“Can I change it? It is _atrocious_.”

Tikki shook their head, antena’s swaying. “Sorry Marinette.”

“I’m going to look like an eight-year-old playing dress up for as long as this takes?”

When there was no response, Marinette dropped her head into her hands with a hissed curse. Of all the costumes that she had gone with, it had to be an even worse version of the original Superman suit. What a travesty.

“Maybe not,” Tikki said after a few moments. “The suit can change depending on your needs as Ladybug. Lots of my previous holders had a change when an important event happened in their lives, like a successful resolution to their conflict or the prevention of danger. Some even had it happen when they married, although that was usually the case when they married their Chat Noir. It usually came much later in their time as Ladybug.”

“Are you saying that _Chat Noir,_ is my literal soulmate?”

“Not quite. Often these pairs end up in a relationship, but not all the time.”

Marinette gaped. “Did you and the mysterious being who gave me this new life _arrange my marriage?_ Tikki! I’m _barely a teenager!_ ”

“Calm down Marinette, it’s going to be fine! You don’t have to marry Chat Noir today, you both just became superheroes.”

“So I _have to_ marry Chat Noir?” Marinette laughed hysterically, shock starting to wear off. “ _Oh mon dieu,_ I’ve never even been on a date and now I’m engaged.”

“No Marinette! Just forget about that part. You don’t have to marry anyone!”

“Why me?” She groaned, looking at the ceiling. “All I wanted was to get through this year without failing algebra, was that too much to ask?”

“Chin up Marinette!” Tikki flew over and settled on her shoulder. “If anyone can figure this out, you can!”

“But you can’t fix my polka dotted onesie?”

“Not unless… not right now”

“So my suit is going to be stuck like this until I either defeat Hawkmoth, get old, marry Chat Noir, or stop the next world war.” Marinette pulled open her backpack to get started on homework. “Fantastic.”  


\----

Today 13:10

**Xiǎolóng:** _Once again, Richard is regaling me with tales of his boyfriend._

 **Angel:** _wait he has a boyfriend???_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Yes._

 **Angel:** _why does this family forget i exist_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Did he not tell you?_

 **Angel:** _i didn’t even know that he was bi._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I don’t know if he considers himself bisexual. That is perhaps something to ask him yourself._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Regardless, I am once again listening to him tell me about Wallace and how ‘wonderful his hair is’, amongst other things_

 **Angel:** _he’s with WALLY????_

 **Angel:** _omg my ship has SAILED_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _What do you mean?_

 **Angel:** _it means that i wanted to have them date. google it if your still confused_

 **Angel:** _righnow you need to tell me all about it so that i can yell at birdy later_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Must I tell you too? It seems that all I ever talk about with Richard is Wallace._

 **Angel:** _yup i want to know_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Fine. They have been dating for about two months._

 **Angel:** _wHAT_

 **Angel:** _oh imma kill him_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Please do not. Then I will have even fewer individuals to talk to._

 **Angel:** _i like that your first response is belief that i would kill someone_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Angel, you talked Jason into a corner and then made him apologize to me every day for a week. I have no doubt that if you put your mind to it, you would be able to accomplish whatever goal you set out._

 **Angel:** _for legal reasons the statements above are a joke_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _What on earth does that have to do with anything?_

 **Angel:** _it’s a joke. Tim can explain that particular one to you. anyways_

 **Angel:** _what’s Wally like???_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _He is a suitable companion for Richard, I suppose. I just wish that he did not monopolize my brother's time so much._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Regardless, I will maintain my distance and listen when Richard would like to talk._

 **Angel:** _Wait Damian_

 **Angel:** _are you Jealous??????_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Of what?_

 **Angel:** _of dick having a bf_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _What is a ‘bf’?_

 **Angel:** _boyfriend. Damian, are you gay or bi?_

 **Angel:** _and pls know that i won’t judge and you dont have to tell me_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I am not, but I appreciate you reaffirming that you would still tolerate my company regardless._

 **Angel:** _again i enjoy your company not tolerate it_

 **Angel:** _are you maybe jealous because you cant get as much contact with biryd?_

 **Angel:** _**birdy_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _It simply feels as though he has no more time to talk beyond his discussion of Wallace._

 **Angel:** _have you told him that?_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I would not want to make him feel unwelcome._

 **Angel:** _i don’t think that telling him you would like to chat more with him will make him feel unwelcome_

 **Angel:** _besides you can always talk more with me!_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Are you certain it would not cause lasting harm to our relationship?_

 **Angel:** _Damian. Dick loves you and will still love you. ask for what you need._

 **Angel:** _and if you were referring to me, i am always happy to talk more with my favourite and most important best friend_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _You are, as Richard says, a physical manifestation of sunshine._

 **Angel:** _you can just say sunshine child_

 **Angel:** _but thank you ily_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Marientte…_

 **Angel:** _oh sorry like platonically. i’m so used to telling all of my closest friends_

 **Angel:** _sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I’ll be more careful_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _It is fine, thank you for clarifying._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I love you too, platonically._

Today 15:25

**Sunshine:** _you didn’t tell me that you had a bOYFRIEND_

 **Sunshine:** _for THREE MONTHS_

 **Birdy:** _oh shit_

 **Sunshine:** _LANGUAGE and YES_

 **Sunshine:** _i stg if you dont pick up i will stick alfred on you_

VideoCall Started

VideoCall Ended - 2 hours 9 minutes

\----

Marinette opened the video call request and immediately squealed. There, sitting next to Damian and panting slightly was the most beautiful great dane she had ever seen. On his yellow and black collar sat a tag in the shape of the Bat-signal, the name too small for her to pick out. Damian smiled at her reaction and the nonsense she began to coo in French, complementing how rich the black of his coat was and how wise his eyes looked.

“Would you like to know his name?”

“Obviously!” Marinette didn’t even look at him, too wrapped up in the dog next to him.

“His name is Titus.”

That caught her attention. “Like… _Titus Andronicus?_ Like Shakespeare Titus?”

“Precisely.”

The petite asian girl snorted, “You are such a dork.”

He grinned at her, not that she noticed. Now that she knew the name, she continued to praise him. Titus’s tail began to wag, leading to another round of kissy noises and babbling. When she finally stopped to get a glass of water, promising to be back with a quick blown kiss to Titus, Damian turned to look at his dog.

“You are a menace.”

Titus simply titled his head and began to pant. Damian scratched behind his ears.

“Unfortunately, Titus, I cannot allow you to monopolize her affections, because I-”

Marinette reappeared suddenly, “Don’t listen to him, Titus. You can have all of my affections, and Damian can deal with it for not telling me about you for over a year.”

Damian grin turned rueful, “You will never let me forget that, will you.”

“Not a chance.”

Marinette asked questions about how long Titus had taken to be trained, and what sorts of treats he preferred. Damian responded to every question she asked, letting her poke and prod, showing her the tricks that Titus knew. Soon enough, she cooed her last goodbye before Damian let Titus out. He picks up his phone and shows her the other animals he’s fostering. When he gets to Alfred the Cat, he can’t help but watch as Marinette bursts into delighted giggles and comments that it is a match made by the stars. She falls in love with BatCow before he even tells her her name, pointing out that the brown patch on her snout looks like the stylized bat on Batman’s suit. It takes them a few hours to get through all of her questions, but when he sits back down, her face sparkles and the smile she wears could rival the sun.

“You have so many lovely creatures!”

He smiles at her, “We had more last week, but the fostering term was finished as they all got adopted out. We also help to train service dogs here and there, mainly as exposure training given our… unique dynamic.”

“Damian, you can just say craziness.”

She looks so serious for a moment before the mask cracks, and she bursts into a fit of giggles. He huffs a little laugh watching her. When she calms down, she looks at him again and falls back into the fit of giggles.

“I do not know why you insist on trying to teach me layman’s speak,” He snarks.

Her laughter gets harder, and she doubles over. He continues to tease her about how she was the only one able to “tame the gremlin”, and the fact that he needed a powerpoint to list out all of the points around why she was more intelligent than Tim. Marinette flapped her hand, face red as she begged him to stop. He complied, watching her with a small smile as she caught her breath.

“You know, I think that the sun only shines in Gotham when you are here.”

She flushed at his words, and glanced down slightly before looking back at him with a small smile. He smirked, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not the only one in this household who thinks such a thing.”

“How unfortunate. I’ve always preferred the rain.”

“Why is that?”

“Because after the rain, the earth smells new and fresh, and the water washes away all of the troubles of the past.”

He blinked. “I had never considered that.”

Another smile, “Not many people do! They just focus on the fact that they are getting wet.”

“And what do you focus on?”

Marinette hummed, and Damian paused his sketch of her. On the page are a collection of snapshots from their conversation. There’s one of her, face flushed and hair falling around her as she laughs. A rough sketch of her face when she ducked down, roses gracing her cheeks. There’s her with her tongue out from when she was talking about Alfred the Cat. Twelve small sketches in total, each one catching a different facet of the girl in front of her.

“I focus on how the world is giving me a reminder that I am present in the moment.”

Damian set down his sketchbook, “You truly see _La Vie En Rose_.” 

She perks up at his comment, “It is a lovely way to live! Staves off many heartbreaks and makes the littlest things more enjoyable. Like a Ghibli movie, _non?_ ”

“What is a Ghibli movie?”

Her jaw dropped, he smiled, and she was off once again to teach him something she deemed essential knowledge despite the fact Steph had already beaten her to the punch. Not that he would tell Marinette that.

\----

To: _furreverfriends@email.com_

From: _d.wayne@weinc.com_

Date: September 30, 2015 06:32

Subject: Commission Request

_Bonjour / Hello_ :

My name is Damian Wayne and I am interested in contracting your services, particularly as you are located in France. I would like to commission a replica of my Great Dane, Titus, as per the pictures attached. Please include a replica of the collar on the plush rendition: I have included a detailed picture of the aforementioned collar as well.

As cost is of no concern to me, I would like to request that you use the finest materials possible to make it as similar to this style of dog plush as possible. ( _Link)_ This gift is of great importance to me as it will be sent to one of my closest friends.

Please contact me if you require any additional details.

Sincerely,

Damian Wayne.

_Attached: 6 images_

  
  
  


To: _d.wayne@weinc.com_

From: _furreverfriends@email.com_

Date: September 30, 2015 06:39

Subject: Re: Commission Request - AUTOMATED RESPONSE

Hello Mr. Wayne,

Thank you so much for your request! 

We are pleased to announce that our facilities remain open despite the developing situation in Paris. Please note, any products being shipped to Paris may be delayed due to the unprecedented and unpredictable natures of _akuma_ attacks. Rest assured that your product will still arrive intact - should it be damaged upon arrival, a replacement will be shipped out within three days.

A Furrever Friends artist will be in contact with you within five business days to discuss your submission.

If you have any further questions at this time, please email _support.furreverfriends@email.com._

Thank you again for supporting our business!

\----

Today 16:06

**Xiǎolóng:** _Angel, what is an Akuma?_

 **Angel:** _let me call you for that_

VideoCall Started

VideoCall Ended - 3 hours 21 minutes

**Xiǎolóng:** _You will remember what we discussed, correct?_

 **Angel:** _Yes, Damian. I will look after myself first and others second._

 **Angel:** _But you can’t stop me from trying to get basic self defense as part of our physical education course as a means of prevention._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I would not try to. All I ask is that you ensure you remain safe._

 **Angel:** _I’ll ask maman about the martial arts lessons today_

Today 20:43

**Angel:** _maman was thrilled at the idea_

 **Angel:** _she wanted me to thank you for reminding her_

 **Angel:** _turns out she has a black belt in Shaolin Kung Fu_

 **Angel:** _the more you know i guess. I will likely start next week._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _That is good to know. Have a good night Angel._

\----

Today 08:18

 **Odette:** _:)_

 **Songbird:** _Cassie why are you still awake????_

 **Odette:** _cant_

 **Songbird:** _oh insomnia?_

 **Songbird:** _well i can talk for a bit since i dont have class right now_

 **Odette:** _:) surprise_

 **Songbird:** _what do you mean surprise?_

 **Odette:** _present soon_

 **Songbird:** _?????_

 **Songbird:** _can i vieodcall you?_

VideoCall Started

_“What do you mean that I'll be getting a present soon?”_

_“Cassieeee…. you can’t just tell me that and not give me more info.”_

_“Ugh fine, I know. Surprises can be good.”_

_“I regret telling you and Damian that.”_

_“No no, just now you are using it against me. I love you Cassie, that doesn’t change ever.”_

_“So you can’t sleep?”_

_“Do you want to chat for a little bit? We can keep talking and signing for now.”_

VideoCall Ended - 42 minutes

\----

To: _pinkpastries@email.com_

From: _shookethspeare@email.com_

Date: October 4, 2015 00:34

Subject: HAPPY NATIONAL CINNAMON BUN DAY

Mornin’ Pixie!

Happy national cinnamon bun day to the cutest best cinnamon bun of a person! I hope that your day is as sweet as you are!

Lots of love,

Tello

\----

Marinette bolted up the stairs, cursing under her breath as she raced for her laptop. The latest Akuma fight had taken a while to figure out, but with the help of Chat Noir and a bit of strategic planning involving a large pool-inflatable shaped as a flamingo, they had finally managed to reverse the damage. The rush of relief had been short lived when Marientte had realized the time. Explaining to her partner that she was late for something, they split to detransform and return back to their civilian lives. Unfortunately for her, Tikki’s transformation had run out two blocks away from her house, leaving Marinette to sprint the remaining way.

The trapdoor leading up to her room hit the floor with a concussive thunk. Marientte winced, pulling it shut before sliding on her chair to get to the video call that was ringing through her laptop.

“Hi Damian I’m sorry I’m late.”

Damian looked amused, “What happened to your hair?”

Confused, Marinette looked at her picture before shreking and slapping her laptop shut. It took a few minutes to tame it back into something presentable. That done, and after checking her outfit, she pulled the laptop back open. Tikki gave her a smile from the little cushion she had made for her near her window. Damian was still on the call, glancing down at something with a look of concentration.

“Okay, I’m back and no longer looking like something from a swamp.”

The boy gave something close to a snort, although she knew he would never admit it. He closed his sketchbook, setting it off screen somewhere, before turning back to face her. His eyes sparked, and the smirk returned.

“Ah yes, the wonderful Princess Fiona returns.”

Marinette was confused, what on earth did…

“Did you just reference _Shrek?_ ” She gasped.

“Perhaps.”

Their eyes met and both broke into laughter. Marientte’s rang through her room as she pieced the reference together. Damian’s, while more consevrative, was no less warm.

Marientte’s laugh tapered off with a sigh, and she grinned at her best friend. “I’m surprised that Mr. “I will not be exposed to such childish ideas'' managed to not only watch the entirety of the movie, but then _referenced_ it to me.”

“Well, Richard was insistent that my childhood was sorely lacking because I had not seen the film. You, however, were the one to call yourself a swamp creature. I simply responded in kind.”

Her glare was half hearted at most, before she exclaimed that she wanted to show him what she had been working on at her martial arts lessons. He watched intently, offering gentle criticism here and there when he noticed discrepancies in her form or ways to make the strikes more powerful. She took it in kind, running through the various sequences that she knew one last time as Damian watched quietly.

Marinette’s cheeks were flushed when she sat back down with a gusty sigh, “Well? Was that okay?”

“You have come quite a way in a fairly short time. I am impressed.”

Marinette’s grin was a little bit tight at that comment. She wanted to tell Damian about her night-time activities, so that there would be no secrets between them but Master Fu and Tikki had been adamant that it would lead to catastrophic identities. Not even Chat Noir, her partner of three months and supposed harmonious balance, knew.

“Well, I had to practice often or else risk your mother henning.”

Shame coated her throat as the misdirection slipped out. She hated that lying was part of her job. For so long, she had pushed back against any liars in her life, adamant that while telling the truth could hurt, it was ultimately less hurt that having a lie ripped out from under your feet. She glanced at the wall, eyes catching on Damian’s inktober sketches. Counting the days, she glanced at her calendar and whipped back to Damian.

“Angel?” His eyebrows dropped at her sudden motions.

“I- we…” She gaped for a moment before shaking her head. “We missed the one year nickname anniversary!”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Remember? We were doing Inktober and then I was drawing the alternate Robin costume when you asked what was wrong with the original. I gave you a presentation for hours on what was bad in all of the Batclan costumes and then you called me Angel!”

Damian blinked for a few moments, processing the information that had just spilled out of his best friend. He ran back through the year, dozens of instances popping up at his attempt to recall what she was saying. After a moment, the right phone call rose to mind and he looked back at Marinette.

“I hadn’t even noticed. You have an impressive memory, Angel.”

She beamed, “Well, it was a really important moment for our friendship! Of course I remembered. I even made something for it.”

She darted off camera and he could hear things falling out from a box. Suddenly her head popped back up on the camera, two small pieces of paper in her hand. Flipping them around, Damian saw a carefully rendered angel with a dragon draped across her shoulders. Smoke coiled around the angel’s head, and the dragon's tail trailed down to the ground. Underneath the image were the words “Happy Nickname-aversery!”

“They’re stickers! I drew the art myself and then used the school's sticker maker to make the back sticky and to put on the paper backing. They’re supposed to be able to stick on a water bottle or anything else really. I completely forgot to put it in the mail for you because of-”

“Marinette.” The girl paused her explanation. “You made stickers to celebrate the day that we designated nicknames to each other?” 

“I- yes?” She flushed. “I thought it was a really important thing to celebrate. Am I just being ridiculous?” 

“Not at all. I just didn’t realize how important it was to you. You really are such a loving person, aren't you?”

“Well I just think that the world would be a whole lot better with a little bit more love.”

He smiled at her comment, and she returned it with a tint still in her cheeks. Setting the stickers aside, they returned to their conversation, both thinking about when their gifts would arrive.

\----

Today 16:59

**Xiǎolóng:** _Marinette, we must call as soon as you see this._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _It is of dire importance to me that you share in my joy._

VideoCall Started

VideoCall Ended - 52 minutes

**Angel:** _i know that i’ve already said it multiple times_

 **Angel:** _but i would die for jerry the turcky._

 **Angel:** _**turkey_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I thought that you would appreciate him._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _Oh, I should wish you a Happy Thanksgiving._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I do not fully understand the value of this holiday. Richard said it was customary._

 **Angel:** _oh happy thanksgiving!!!_

 **Angel:** _i totally forgot that it was today in Gotham. I’m really thankful that your my friend_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _And I you._

\----

Today 13:20

**Angel:** _!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

 **Angel:** _asljfhsafhasjkf_

 **Angel:** _Attachment: 1 image_

 **Angel:** _YOU GOT ME A STUFFED VERSION OF TITUS??????_

 **Angel:** _l love him so much omfg_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I am glad that you like it._

 **Xiǎolóng:** _I was inspired by the German Shepherd you gave to me on your vacation here nearly four years ago._

 **Angel:** _damian i am literally crying i love it so much_

 **Angel:** _this is the best pre-Christmas gift ever you are amazing_

 **Xiǎolóng:** _You are remarkable yourself, Marinette._

\----

To: _trueheir@email.com_

From: _pinkpasteries@email.com_

Date: December 25, 2015 12:25

Subject: Part 1 of Your Christmas Gift!

  
  


Joyeux Noël Damian!

IF YOU ARE READING THIS BEFORE WE ARE ON OUR VIDEO CALL I WILL BE VERY SAD.

  
  
  
  
  


This is a playlist of songs that remind me of you. I have been slowly building it for the past year as we’ve gotten closer, and wanted to share it with you to celebrate this holiday. I hope that you enjoy it!

_Spotify Link:_ Xiǎolóng’s Playlist (91 songs, 5hr 42min)

Lots of love!

Marinette

  
  


To: _pinkpasteries@email.com_

From: _trueheir@email.com_

Date: December 25, 2015 19:38

Subject: Re: Part 1 of Your Christmas Gift!

Dear Angel,

Thank you again for this. I can see how you and Cass both enjoy curating such a diverse collection of music.

If I may, the song “You Are My Sunshine”, as covered by Kina Grannis has always reminded me of you. I hope that you enjoy it.

Warmly,

Damian

  
  


_Add “You Are My Sunshine” to your private playlist “Your Angel <3” ? _

_Confirm_

\----

Marinette bolted awake at six in the morning with a gasp. The remnants of her nightmare clung to her like spidersilk, and she fumbled for her phone to cast a light into the dark of her room as she fought for the calm she needed. The sun was not yet making its ascent over Paris, causing the lights of the city to spill into darkness, as though yellow stars had tumbled from the sky. She could hear her _papa_ starting to work on the bread for the day downstairs, the heat of the ovens rising up through the floorboards into the chilly late February air.

Tikki yawned, her sleep disturbed by Marientte’s sudden return to consciousness. “Marinette? Is everything okay?”

The girl in question peeled the sweat-soaked shirt off of body and shimmied down to get a replacement. “Something feels wrong, Tikki.”

The ladybug-god floated up to follow their chosen. Their antenne trembled in the air, and they too felt the whispers of change around her. “Maybe an _akuma_ is coming?”

“Can I sense that?”

“Some holders develop the ability to tell when their foe is preparing a strike,” Tikki shrugged. 

Marinette tugged on a new sleep shirt, tossing the damp one into her hamper. Her hands shook as she poured a cup of water and took a deep draw from it, and she loosed a shuddering breath. The sticky-fear clawed up her spine, and the nightmare played across her mind in brutal technicolor. She nearly dropped the glass as she went to set it down.

“Tikki, something really doesn’t feel right. I… I don’t know what to do!” The girl whimpered.

Tikki tugged on the collar of Marientte’s shirt in the direction of her bed. The girl stumbled as she followed, her arms trembling as she climbed the ladder and back to where her phone was. Marinette yanked the coverlet around her and pulled her knees to her chest, taking another gasp of air.

“Maybe Damian’s up?” Tikki offered. “Or someone else in the family?”

“I don’t want to… I can’t…”

Too distressed to even finish the sentence, Tikki could only watch with growing panic as Marinette buried her face in her hands and began to shudder in the effort to keep her tears in. The tiny god floated down to the phone and flipped through the contacts until they found the one they were looking for. The phone rang once, twice, thrice before it clicked through.

“Angel? Is everything okay? You are not normally up at this time.”

At hearing Damain’s voice float through the speakers, Marinette lifted her face.

“Damian?” She croaked.

He cursed softly “Angel, what’s the matter?”

“I… I had a night terror and you were hurt and I couldn’t get to you and I-” Her explanation broke off with a sob.

“Oh, Marinette.” His voice was soft. “I assure you that I am fine. There has not been a serious attack recently, and even if there was, Batman and his team would handle it.”

“ _Non, Damian._ ” She cried. “ _Il ne…_ _qu'est ce-que…_ I-”

“Angel, listen to me. I am fine, I am safe, and Batman _always_ comes. It was just a dream.”

He began to tell her about his day to distract her and give her something to ground herself with. Slowly, so slowly, Marinette’s tears subsided and the tension slipped from her back. She hiccuped slightly as she slumped back into her pillows, phone illuminating half of her face. Tikki settled back into their nest and watched with blue eyes older than time, relief beginning to creep in that Marinette was no longer a target for Hawkmoth.

“Angel, are you back with me?”

The girl sniffed and dragged the back of her hand across her nose. “I’m here.”

“What do you need? Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

“ _Peut Etre._ ” A pause then- “Are you outside?”

“Ah... yes. I went out so as to not disturb the rest of the household.”

“Oh.”

“Marinette, I am okay, I promise.”

“Al.. alright. Just be careful okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I am always careful, Angel.” His words were warmed by a smile. “I have something I would like to ask you, so I will call you once the night in Gotham passes, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Perhaps the sun will shine a little bit earlier, thanks to your call.”

“Maybe.” She let out a stuttering sigh in place of a laugh. “Don’t forget to also get some sleep.”

“I will, Angel. Sleep well. I’ll talk to you soon.”

The phone went silent and Marinette curled up in her bed, face turned towards the pre-dawn sky. When her mind would not still, she pulled her phone back and flicked through her playlist until the familiar tones of _“La Vie En Rose”_ began to float through the space. She hummed along to it as she counted her breathing to keep calm. By the time the familiar chords of _“You Are My Sunshine”_ began to play, Marinette was fast asleep again. 

\----

Today 12:25

**Angel:** _goodmorning Damian_

 **Angel:** _thank you for taking my call last night im sorry if I woke you up_

 **Angel:** _just let me know when your ready to call okay? i’ll have my ringer on_

Today 16:42

**Angel:** _Damian? are we going to call today?_

Today 18:03

**Angel:** _Damian are you okay?_

Today 18:04

**Watson:** _hey Timmy is damian busy? i havent heard from him yet and we were going to call_

 **Watson:** _is everythin okay?_

 **Sherlock:** _i think he lost his phone_

 **Watson:** _really? i doubt it. can you tell him to call me if hes free?_

 **Sherlock** : _ill let him know_

Today 21:38

**Angel:** _Damian please pick up im getting worried_

 **Angel:** _the news doesn’t say anything about an attack whats going on?_

\----

To: _pinkpasteries@email.com_

From: _shookethspeare@email.com_

Date: February 27, 2016 04:04

Subject: HAPPY NATIONAL POKEMON DAY

Hi Pixie!

Happy national pokemon day! I hope your day is a-Mew-sing!

Lots of Love,

Tello

  
  


To: _shookethspeare@email.com_

From: _pinkpasteries@email.com_

Date: February 27, 2016 07:18

Subject: Re: HAPPY NATIONAL POKEMON DAY

Tello what’s going on? Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from Damian at all and I’m really worried.

\----

Search History

_Gotham News_

_Gotham crime_

_Recent attacks in Gotham_

_Gotham news Feb 26_

_why isn’t someone replying_

_how to check if connection is working_

_gotham power outage?_

_gotham cell service out?_

  
  


\----

Today 12:03

**Songbird:** _Cassie is everything okay_

 **Songbird:** _cassie please answer me i’m getting scared_

 **Songbird:** _for fucks sake someone needs to ANSWER ME_

Message Not Delivered

 **Songbird:** _what_

Message Not Delivered

\----

Search History

_how to see if twitter is not working_

_#gothamUpdates_

_Gotham Gazette_

_Gotham PD_

_Detective Gordon_

_is it illegal to email a detective in another city?_

_Bruce Wayne_

_Wanye Enterprses_

_WE press release_

_is no news good news all the time_

\----

Today 17:21

**Angel:** _Damian I swear if this is a prank i will never forgive you_

Today 23:43

**Angel:** _thats a lie i will forgive you just please answer me_

 **Angel:** _please just one sign that things are okay_

 **Angel:** _is it because I called? did i overstep?_

 **Angel:** _damian please i’m beggin you just answer me_

\----

To: _b.wayne@weinc.com_

From: _pinkpasteries@email.com_

Date: February 29, 2016 6:52

Subject: Damian

Uncle Bruce why isn’t Damian replying is everything okay?

Everything is okay right and this is just some weird blip like maybe you did a no technology weekend?

Please have damian call me or text me or just let me knwo that things are okay

  
  


To: _pinkpasteries@email.com_

From: _b.wayne@weinc.com_

Date: March 1, 2016 19:06

Subject: Re: Damian

Hi Marinette,

Bruce Wayne is currently occupied at the moment and will get back to you as soon as possible.

Thank you for reaching out.

Sincerely,

_Dana Blessing, Secretary to Bruce Wayne_

\----

Today 17:36

**Sunshine:** _birdy please call me_

 **Sunshine:** _nobody’s answering whats going on_

 **Birdy:** _Sorry Mari, no can do. I’ll call you later_

 **Sunshine:** _promise me okay?_

\----

“Marinette, I’m sure that everything is fine,” Sabine coaxed. “We didn’t receive a medical update and your _papa_ and I are listed as medical contacts for the entire Wayne family.”

Her daughter looked at her with bleary eyes, the screen of her laptop glowing in the dark of her room. “Just a few more minutes, _maman._ They aren’t replying but Dick said he’d call me later.”

Sabine sighed. “ _Bǎobèi,_ it’s now nearly eleven o’clock. You need to go to bed. Your father and I will reach out to Bruce and see if he has an update, okay? Let the adults handle this for you.”

“Okay, _maman._ I love you.”

“I love you more, _ma cherie._ Sleep well.”

Sabine’s last sight is her daughter slumping further into her chair, eyes locked onto a screen as if her will alone would bring news, before shuffling to her bathroom to get ready for bed.

\----

To: _b.wayne@weinc.com_

From: _s.cheng@email.com_

Date: March 2, 2015 23:43

Subject: Family Inquiry

Hello Bruce,

Marinette has told us that she is having difficulty getting in contact with your children. She is getting worried that something has happened, particularly to Damian.

I just wanted to reach out to confirm that things are well, as we have not received a medical update/alert from your end.

I look forward to you response,

Sabine

  
  


To: _s.cheng@email.com_

From: _b.wayne@weinc.com_

Date: March 3, 2015 03:25

Subject: Re: Family Inquiry

Hello Ms. Cheng,

Thank you for reaching out. Mr. Wayne is experiencing an unusual number of requests at this moment and has asked me to inform you that he will update you if something new develops.

Thank you for your time,

_Dana Blessing, Secretary to Bruce Wayne_

\----

**ANIMAL RIGHTS SUPPORTER DAMIAN WAYNE CAUGHT ABUSING STRAYS**

_By: Earl Parkhill for Gotham Daily_

Despite his long history of taking in strays, it seems that Bruce Wayne’s habits have yet to fully rub off on his son. Gotham Daily photographers caught Damian Wayne on camera kicking a cat out of his way before scaling a wall into private property. Although the photo is over a week old, it seems that the “Ice Prince of Gotham” has a rebellious streak, which raises questions about why he has yet to emerge from Wayne Manor after that time. When asked about the situation… _ read more. _

\----

Today 15:32

**Angel:** _are you ignoring me because of the news_

 **Angel:** _because i know that is not you in the photo_

 **Angel:** _and if it was i would still want to be your friend_

 **Angel:** _Damian please_

\----

Today 16:26

**Kiddo** : _babs do you know whats going on with the waynes they aren’t answering me_

 **Kiddo:** _please i just want to know whats going on_

 **Babs:** _let me ask them?_

 **Babs:** _its gonna be okay <3 _

**Kiddo:** _promise?_

\----

Search History

_Gotham updates_

_Damian Wayne_

_Damian Wayne animals_

_Wayne enterprises_

_how to know if a relationship is ending_

_how to know if someone doesnt want to be friends anymore_

_arkham asylum news_

_batclan sightings_

\----

Today 00:18

**Songbird:** _please cassie please answer please text me_

_Message not delivered_

\----

Today 00:28

**Darlin’:** _steph have you heard from the waynes_

 **Maple** : _mari what the heck are you doing up_

 **Maple:** _its so late in paris go to sleep_

 **Darlin’:** _steph please just have you heard from the waynes_

 **Darlin’:** _i havent been able to get more than a few words out of them for the last two weeks_

 **Darlin’:** _and cassie isnt texting me im really worried_

 **Maple:** _i’ll see what i can do okay? try to sleep and ill text you as soon as i can <3 _

\----

Today 00:34

**Angel:** _Please, please be okay. I love you._

\----

Marinette tapped her pen against her desk, staring out the window. Mme. Bustier was lecturing about the French Revolution, something that Marinette already knew quite well thanks to discussions with Damian. Alya was sending concerned glances at her, and she ignored them in favour of watching the window for any potential akuma attacks. The oily feeling of something being not right had stuck around all weekend.

There was a poke on her shoulder, “Girl, are you sure you’re okay?”

Marinette blinked at Alya, throwing a smile so false it hurt up, “Yup! Just worried about the upcoming Maths test.”

Her friend arched her eyebrow, “You mean the one that we had last period?”

“Oh right! I guess that I’ve just been so worried about it all weekend that it’s hanging around.”

Alya snorted, “Girl, some days I think that you would forget your head if it wasn’t attached.”

The noirette gave a weak grin in response before turning back to the window. The sooner this day ended, the better for her. Maybe Uncle Bruce had emailed her to tell her that Damian would call this lunch period. The Waynes had been eerily quiet or brief in the past days, and then there had been no communication from anyone despite her best efforts. Marientte had even gone over to Max’s house to see if there were any problems with her phone and laptop. When nothing had been apparent, Marinette had checked and re-checked that it wasn’t an issue with her mailbox or SMS, eventually calling the phone company to ensure that her number was still operational.

A few more minutes passed before there was a soft tap infront of her and a folded slip of paper slid onto her desk. When she unfolded it, Adrian’s handwriting asked if she was alright. She glanced at the blond and gave a tight smile and thumbs up. The boy didn’t look convinced, and quickly scribbled on the back of the note that she would tell the group later before passing it back to him. He nodded after reading it, giving her a quick thumbs up and returning to the lecture. Marinette continued to glance out the window, checking and rechecking that her eyes weren't deceiving her. She felt her phone buzz in her backpack, a triplet pattern she was unfamiliar with. It stopped for a second before repeating it over and over again. Confused, she pulled it out and glanced at it under the table. Dozens, then hundreds of Twitter notifications were popping up under the “GothamBreaking” and “WayneKids” hashtags. Her heart stopped, and she quickly pulled open the rarely used Twitter app and punched in the hashtag. The number one tweet was from Wayne Enterprises.

_“Please see the attached message. A further press release will be issued later on."_

There were no further tags, and Marientte scrolled down slightly to see what all the chatter was about. She skimmed over the first few, dread crawling up her throat before the world fell out from under her feet as she saw the newest hashtag.

_#RIPDamianWayne_

Marinette blinked, reading and re-reading the tag. She scrolled up to the original tweet and downloaded the attached PDF file, spine locked. It seemed to take a year for it to load, but once her phone had finished she opened it with a trembling finger.

_Regret to inform Gotham that…_

_Tragic incident involving two…_

_Despite the best efforts of the Gotham Health Department…_

_Died…_

_Funeral will…_

_No further…_

_Condolences to the Waynes._

_Condolences to the Waynes._

_Condolences to the Waynes._

She read through it again, and a third time as the world around her seemed to fade out. She could distantly hear voices calling her name, could feel a hand shaking her slightly, but nothing registered.

_#RIPDamianWayne_

Something was ringing in her ears, and a calloused hand pulled the phone out of her hands. A pair of green eyes, concerned and wide, met hers and all of a sudden everything was too much. The questions of her classmates, the slight breeze of the heater, the pressure of Alya’s hands on her shoulder: they burned. She couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t _feel_ anything as she bolted from the room and down the corridor. Her feet slammed down on the ground as she leapt the last few stairs. There was a loud thud, and the March air nipped against her skin as she stumbled into the courtyard.

A thousand things slammed through her in a blink: Damian’s laughter at her teasing, the ridiculous drawings, the hesitance with nicknames. Dozens and hundreds of early morning phone calls or texts, emails sent from two young children who didn’t understand the world. The changing of an email address, the exchanging of phone numbers. She blinked again, and Marinette is no longer 13, no longer standing in front of _College_ _Françoise Dupont_.

She is five and at the _Louvre_ . She sees six-year-old Damian frowning at her as they stood in the temporary Egyptian exhibit. He had been so, so guarded. Her hand, small and rounded, points out the same patterns to an uncaring audience. A brief hug before she walks away and suddenly she is running into him in _Le Jardin Du Luxembourg_. Her hand in his as she tugs the nine-year-old through the market to her parents, hints of masked awe at the variety around him. A stony face taking a bag of pastries, the Eiffel tower in the background. Eight-year-old Marinette runs back towards her parents and now sees Damian in the toy store holding the Lego that she had explained to him. There’s a stuffed dog toy at his feet, and she’s hurtling in the manor, her nine-year-old self sitting quietly with him as she sketches, determination roaring through her as she decides that she would love him enough for all of his childhood hurts he does not share but rather wears like a heavy cloak. Her breath catches when not-Marinette looks up and watches as not-Damian turns the page of the book he’s reading as the air turns golden with the sunset.

A shaft of sunlight breaks through the clouds and bursts against her eyes. Marientte is falling, falling, falling before slamming back into her body and now she can hear his final phone call to her. The wind hissing past his phone, the curse when he realized that she was panicking. His assurance that he would call her when it was morning for him. Her falling asleep to the song that he had chosen for her, the soft humming of the two songs that he had gifted to her lulling her back out of her nightmares. Pieces of a puzzle were swirling around her, flashes of barely registered understandings and hunches.

“Marinette you need to calm down!” A high-pitched voice screams into her ear.

Everything within her freezes as if suspended in glass, like a thousand diamonds. She takes another breath, her internal self weaving through the glittering internal landscape as she willed her body into an alleyway and called up her transformation. Ladybug zipped back to her house, de-transforming as she slammed through her skylight and onto her bed. Silence wrapped around her, only to be broken by the ringing of the landline as though it was underwater. The school, no doubt, calling to inform her parents about her absence. From behind a glass wall, she could feel the roaring waves of things she could not yet name, like the ocean in a storm. The phone in her pocket that she didn’t recall grabbing was ringing frantically, no breaks as the different calls went though. Her eyes snagged on the half-finished outline of a themed shirt, the bright yellow stark against the green and black on the page. Everything was impossibly calm within her, as if looking at a picture. Marinette can only watch as her body pulls open her laptop, clicking open a widget to make a call.

It made it through half a ring before the wary faces of the entire Wayne family appear. Marinette blinked at them, face flat. The humming in her ear stops as everything sucks towards one point of focus. The sounds of Paris die, and there is only Marientte and the Waynes. They stared at her, eyes scanning and cataloguing what they were seeing. The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place as she did a quick headcount, noting the similarities in the builds and demeanours.

Jason is the one to break the silence. His voice is impossibly soft. “Hi Pixie.”

Marientte can’t respond, can’t do anything other than stare at the family that she had found, this family that she had loved with every fibre of her being, who has now ripped her very heart out and left her to bleed out on the other side of the world.

Tim tries next, “Salutations Watson.”

If she replies, the glass will shatter and she will have to pick up the pieces alone. There are no more snarky phone calls at exactly 13:30. There will be no more design contests and emailed drawings. She cannot speak or the stasis will break.

Dick’s face is pinching, and he meets her eyes, “Heya Sunshine.”

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey..._

Chords wrap around her and she hears Damian telling her the sun only shines when she is there and her telling him she prefers the rain. She hears him telling Titus that he cannot monopolize her affections because _he doesn’t know_ , _she never had the chance to tell him,_ that he already has them.

Alfred, calm, all-knowing Alfred speaks next. “ _Bonjour, Petite-fille”_

It is dark, and she feels the choking press of _wrong_ squeezing her lungs. She reads that Robin may have been killed. She reads that he was not, Robin was spotted a day later trailing after Batman and not-Marinette cannot understand _why_ her chest relaxes when she sees that picture on the BatWatch blog she found months ago and decided to follow on a whim.

Cass looks at her, tears in the older girl's eyes and signs _sorry_.

The word clangs through her mind, and now she is frantically calling every Wayne to have _someone_ tell her the truth. Her world is splintering but held together by a warm face that the others have told her only she sees. He calls her every night, like clockwork as she glues the broken pieces back together. He, without knowing it, sends her _her_ favourite song to comfort her. There are a dozen songs saved in a hidden playlist that only she knows, because they are all from him and it is a tangible reminder that he cares for her.

“Hello Marinette.”

Bruce’s face is a clean slate, and yet she can read the thousands of secrets under it with ease. This is the mask, she realizes. Bruce is the mask, and somewhere in Marinette a voice screams at her for not putting it together sooner. The glass trembles within her, a high-pitched, shimmering, whine as her throat unlocks.

“Hello Mr. Wayne.”

Her voice is a gunshot, the Waynes are her target, and the bullet strikes true. Cass’s hands fly to her mouth, agony flashing across in a blink of an eye before she turns and flees like the bird Marinette named her with. Tim crumples in his seat, a choked off sound of pain coming from him as his hands claw around himself in a mocking embrace. Jason’s eyes glow green in a flash, and _oh,_ Marientte thinks, _of course it was a lie._ The man returned from the dead with a mean streak tempered by agony and reforged by unfailing compassion. The life returned not through medicine but through something that Marinette is only beginning to understand. The man who is now shrinking away from her blank stare, like the tragic hero he read to her, the General who chose death rather than justice. Marinette fells Dick in three words, her perfect posture and tearless face tearing through his wings as if they were tissue paper. She shatters through Alfred’s kitchen, no longer an exuberant girl tripping over her French, but a woman trapped in a child's body who has been hardened by grief and anger and pain. And Marinette chokes the air out of Bruce’s lungs at her unflinching stare and emotionless, mocking voice that he knows will haunt him for as long as he remains Batman.

She is completely still, and there is nothing within her except, icy, frozen calm.

“Is there something that you would like to tell me?”

This is not Marinette’s voice. This is the voice of Ladybug who holds Marinette as she screams in a language too old to be forgotten and too young to be ignored.

Bruce nods slowly, “Yes, but I am gathering that you already know.”

“I would like to hear you say it, out loud. Without euphemisms.”

Jason, who she now sees as Red Hood, flinches at her word choice. He was the one to teach her that word, carefully sounding it out to a ten year old who couldn’t understand the novel she was trying to read so that she could discuss it with her friend.

“Damian has died.”

The words wash over Marinette, setting the glass shards within her ringing. She can see the shimmering edge of the water lapping through her glass box as the sea inside her rises and rises.

“Yes, and imagine my surprise when I found out through an impersonal hashtag instead of the people I once called _family._ ”

Her words are the frozen, icy wrath that spills from her as the storm inside her crests and rises, as the glass shards begin to whip around, carving her out. Marinette watches as her body goes over to the wall and yanks a contract given to her with a promise from the wall before it is slammed to the ground. Glass shatters, and Marientte can only stare as her body picks up the contract from amongst it, her hand now bleeding on the cream cardstock, as she returns to her chair. Compassion and love are choking under wave after wave of fury and pain and betrayal.

“Do you remember this, Mr. Wayne?”

The man she once called her uncle, the man who fights crime on a daily basis, flinches. “I do.”

Not-Marinette blinks, “Are you certain? For it seems that you failed to uphold the terms established within this _legally binding document._ ”

Bruce swallows, “I understand, Marinette. We are going to help you however we can.”

“Would you like to know what I think?” She tears the document in half, her blood smearing across the signatures in a macabre imitation, and then drops it on the ground. “That is what I think of the word of you Waynes. I spent nearly fourteen days out of my mind with worry, I tried time and time again to reach you and every time, _every time_ , you brushed me aside. I do not want your help, because it is conditional, and failing and _untrue._ Do not tell me that you can help me when you are the cause of this.”

The water is rising to her neck, and she takes one final breath of air as the glass walls around her shatter and everything _burns_ . She can read everything on their faces, she can map out her life's story. She can read all of their pain and agony and _lies_ in the slopes of their lips and the pinch of their eyes.

“I want nothing to do with you.” Ladybug hisses as Marientte begins to drag her back within. “But don’t worry, _Batman_ , your little secret is safe with me.”

The last thing she sees is five sets of eyes blowing wide and three mouths dropping open before the call ends. She slams her laptop closed and clutches at her hair trying desperately to force the water back, to still the hurricane of glass within her. Her eyes catch on a drawing of an apple tree in blossom with robins sitting in the branches in a glass frame, and there is no stopping it anymore.

Marinette doesn’t remember calling for her transformation, or slamming onto the rooftops. She doesn’t realize that Tikki, despite being transformed, is the one to alert Chat Noir of the danger. Marinette, _Ladybug,_ sprints across the roofs and tries to escape her grief, the ground below her a smear of grey and the wind tearing at her exposed skin. She is on Notre Dame when a hard body slams her to the ground, pulls her into the bell towers and crushes her against a strong chest. Green eyes meet blue and everything stills once more.

“Damian?” Marinette breathes, grief and pain and exhaustion making her dizzy.

The eyes are soft, “No, My Lady.”

She blinks again, and looks at her feet. There, instead of the uniform blending of spotted fabric, is a pair of sturdy combat boots with red laces. There are black gloves on her hands with golden embroidery that fades into red with the stiff material. Marinette looks to the side slightly and her breath freezes for the thousandth time as she sees her distorted figure in one of the bells. A cape now flows from her shoulders, split into two parts and humming like the wings of her namesake. Her yoyo sits where she had once drawn a utility belt, and she has a reinforced chest piece in black overtop of a tight red long sleeve top. Clutching her with all the strength he can manage, she feels as Chat Noir begins to purr, the vibrations rippling up her frozen body and breaking the ice around her lungs. She watches as his tail lashes, the metal buckle of it scraping across the stonework with a hiss.

Slowly, with fear and sorrow and love swirling in her stomach, she drags her eyes up to look at her mask in the Church bell. There are two sharp points rising up from the corners, and it bleeds from black to red towards the bridge of her nose. It is the last thing she sees before the world tilts under her again and Marinette slams back into a body that she does not want anymore as the water within her breaks free and the glass flies towards her. Chat Noir holds her tighter, his leather ears flicking back.

Clad in a version of the suit she had once drawn for Robin, that she had once drawn for _Damian_ , Marinette shatters into a thousand pieces with a wordless howl of anguish that sets the bells of Notre Dame ringing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely human.
> 
> Can you do something for me? Can you take a moment to check in with yourself? Do you maybe need to reach out to someone just to make sure that you are looking after your emotional/mental health? Do you need to take any meds? Maybe go grab a snack and a drink of water or something similar. Take a stretch. Get some fresh air even if it's just standing outside and looking at the street. You're doing great and I'm so proud of you. I love you!
> 
> Some fun, light hearted notes? BatCow and Jerry the Turkey are Damian's canonical pets! You can find BatCow on the Batman Wiki, I think. Jerry the Turkey I'm not too sure about, but I know that he exists!
> 
> I know that this chapter didn't end on a good note - that was intentional, because the next work has many many parts in it. I promise that at the end of all of this (the entire series) there is a happy ending. But, like my friends say, sometimes the only way out is through. So I wanted to give Marinette time to grieve, give a resolution to the whole Hawkmoth arc, establish a couple things further before finally getting the beautiful resolution that I have planned. All I will say is that the next works will be quite long, and one of them is already fully planned out with a writing schedule and publishing schedule noted down!
> 
> Would you like some amazing works containing fabulous found families and generally happy endings? Let me give you some here!
> 
> The "BatWatch" blog was inspiration drawn from "Shutterbug" by goldkirk. It's a wonderful work in the Batman/DCU fandom, and you don't need much source knowledge to understand the goings on!
> 
> The "Aroma Mocha" series (written by EthelPhantom), if you haven't read it is just wonderful. A very cute take on the Coffee Shop AU.
> 
> "#WayneAngel" by Tired_College_Student_Writing is just very lovely and humorous. One of my personal bookmarks!
> 
> And to round this out, a lovely MLB work entitled "make it fashion" by katocci in which Marinette's talents as a designer are evident and Gabriel Agrest is no longer Hawkmoth!
> 
> If you're having trouble finding these, I have all of them bookmarked on my account. Give these fantastic authors some love too! 
> 
> I think that's all I have to say here. Thank you again for reading this. Please leave me a comment if you think I missed something in the tags, warnings or otherwise. It is, and will never be, my intention to trigger someone's trauma - so if I missed something I beg you to let me know so that I don't repeat it. If you need to chat with me, just let me know okay? You're doing amazing. I'm proud of you for making it through another day. I love you!


End file.
